Justice League: Off the Record
by MikeyX58
Summary: Off the Record explores adventures of the expanded Justice League. After the attack in Metropolis, wounds are being healed, both literally and figuratively. Doctor Light bonds with STRIPE about their heroic origins. Ray and Obsidian have a heart-to-heart talk. And Superman is desperate to find out what went so wrong, and why Livewire killed Luminus. CHAPTER UPDATE.
1. Prelude - The Discussion

**Author's Note:**

**Again, I am beginning a story outside of my main field. I will explain in my profile why this is.**

**Worth noting, this story is meant for the animated series Justice League/Justice League Unlimited, this chapter taking place just days after the series finale and the departure of Hawkgirl.**

**Most chapters will be longer than this - also, this content isn't the most exciting. That said, it felt to me the best place to start.**

**If you notice any errors, please let me know as soon as possible. If you've any questions, you can either PM me or write a review. I know where I am initially going with this story, and so I hope to have a second chapter up before too long. Hope you enjoy the chapter below, for what it's worth.**

**Lastly, I do not own Justice League or any related characters.**

* * *

_"J'onn's right. Earth still needs us, and we'll never let her down. It's our duty."_

That sentiment echoed through Batman's mind as he surveyed those around him. One didn't need to be a detective to sense the downbeat mood despite Superman's rather positive proclamation. _Admittedly_, Batman mused, _J'onn set the bar pretty high also._

The tense atmosphere, the Caped Crusader noted, wasn't doing Wally any good, though John, Diana, and J'onn seemed to be taking it in stride. The Flash kept fidgeting, but much unlike his pre-invasion self, kept his jokes to a minimum, and when he realized he wasn't going to be able to lighten the mood, he gave up entirely.

Bruce almost felt bad while witnessing the change in personality going over Flash. Almost.

Wally let loose a long sigh, culminating in him asking, his voice weary, "So, anyone know when the big man is planning on turning up? I mean, I'm not one to complain, but-"

"He'll be here," Batman replied, his stern tone shutting Flash down.

As if Superman had been waiting for that moment, the door to the Batcave's conference room opened, and in stepped the Man of Steel. He only looked at his five peers a few seconds, unsmiling, before he said, his voice full of authority, "Let's begin."

* * *

"It seems to me we have a long discussion ahead of us," Superman began, sitting down between Wonder Woman and Flash. "Our Watchtower is completely decimated, our ranks have diminished, and our morale, as a whole, has suffered a devastating blow. We must," he continued urgently, "figure out how to best get back on our feet in the least possible amount of time."

"The Watchtower situation isn't something we should fret over," Batman replied. "The funds to secure the construction of a second one won't be hard to come by."

"The Billionaire Bat strikes again," Wally said, a grin now appearing on his face. While the remark was ignored, Batman did see a slight smirk come upon Diana's face.

"The more important question is how to deal with the loss of Hawkgirl," Batman continued, "because like it or not, we have lost significant power."

"We could carry on ourselves," John Stewart, his voice gruff (especially given the events of the last week). "I mean, was she a powerful member? Without doubt. But all of us are powerful, and if losing one member immediately emasculates us, then what are we?"

"There are others out there who we could get, though," Superman replied, his eyes staring directly into Green Lanterns'. "No one is saying we're not powerful as is. That said, I personally feel a change is needed, and now seems the best time to implement a change."

"What type of change are we talking here, Clark," Diana asked. "Yes, it makes sense to update the Watchtower's defenses, but it sounds as though you're talking about more than bringing in another member or two."

"I am," Clark boldly stated. "I'd like to bring in many more than two, many more than twenty, if possible."

The stunned silence lasted a few seconds before Flash spoke up, this time serious.

"Um, are you sure that's a good idea? Like, how would that even work? Grodd attacks and what, 35 of us turn up and start pounding him? I don't think that'll go over too well."

"What he means is," Batman began, cutting through the Flash's immaturity, "we would likely be based in the Watchtower, and when necessary, a group of us would go assist those who need it, probably in small sub-groups."

"Yeah, but are there even enough heroes to get with us? I can think of only a few others, and that's if I try really hard."

J'onn, who had remained silent through the whole procession, finally spoke. "If we do indeed decide to go the route Superman is proposing, then proposed membership can be discussed. To do such beforehand, if we choose not to go with Superman's plan, would be wasteful of the time we have."

"I have to admit," Green Lantern said, looking at Superman, "the idea of having even twenty heroes living up in the Watchtower bugs me. We'd need to train them all in how to run the machinery, the protocol, and teach them how to pilot the Javelin. Not to mention the extensive training exercises necessary to ensure everyone is on the same page."

"First off," Superman replied, "it's not as though all of us would be living up there. Half of us sleep down here on Earth, yourself included. Secondly, while I agree it'd not be an easy undertaking, possessing a large amount of superhumans and heroes in order to further our cause for justice could only benefit the planet. Also, it's worth noting that while some heroes will undoubtedly learn how to use the different machinery, I think we should also have personnel, or support staff, to deal with the operation of the Watchtower, giving us more time to train new recruits."

Green Lantern nodded at this, though still appeared uneasy at the idea.

"Diana, have you any concerns," Batman asked, looking at the woman to Superman's left.

She remained silent for some ten seconds before clearing her throat and saying, "I think that Clark has a point. I can understand why some among us may be troubled, but when you look at the big picture, I feel it's a good move forward."

"Then I'd recommend we vote," Batman said, "unless anyone else has concerns to voice."

"How about you, Batman," Superman asked, gazing at him with a look of incredulous confusion. "You haven't said anything about how you feel."

"I maintain part-time status, and will continue to do so," he replied. "Whether or not I approve shouldn't make a difference."

"That's baloney, Bruce," Diana snapped, clearly aggravated.

"Still," J'onn stated, his tone mournful, "if that is how Batman wishes it to be, then so be it. Shall we vote," he asked, turning his head, making eye contact with the whole of the League.

Superman nodded, and started off with a "Yea."

"Yea," continued Flash.

"Yea," Green Lantern said, with noticeable hesitation.

"Yea," Wonder Woman quickly followed.

J'onn concluded, with a "Yea," of his own.

Superman looked around at his peers. "The motion is adopted."

"So now, which nobodies are we going to try and recruit," Flash asked, seeming to not entirely be joking.

"I suggest we each name a few individuals that come to mind, decide on those, and go from there," Superman replied.

Wonder Woman spoke first after a few minutes of quiet contemplation. "Aquaman? That is, if he could leave Atlantis?"

"He'd more likely have part-time status," J'onn agreed, "but he is a prime candidate to ask."

"In that case," Superman said, "we could ask Doctor Fate. He'd also be part-time I suspect, but even so, his abilities would benefit us greatly."

"Zatanna," Batman swiftly suggested, then seeing none of them appeared to understand, added, "she's a magician."

The room remained silent, the League's eyes still on Batman.

"I give you my word, you'll want her."

"So Aquaman, Doctor Fate, and Zatanna," Flash counted off with his fingers. "A long way from thirty."

"Steel, Orion, Supergirl, and Metamorpho," Superman replied, his impatience obvious. "Discuss."

"I don't know about the others," Green Lantern said dismissively, "but Rex is a friend of mine. His powers are still relatively new. Do you really think he'd be ready for the League?"

"Since I'd like to put you in head of the training regimen," Superman countered, "that's up to you. Do you think he's ready?"

Green Lantern thought for a few seconds, then nodded. "Not entirely, but I think given a few weeks with him, he'd do just fine."

"Who's this Steel guy," Flash asked.

"A friend," Superman simply replied. "He's also an engineer, so he'd be helpful on that front also."

"How about Nightwing," Wonder Woman asked, looking over to Batman.

"No," he replied stiffly. "One: he's not ready for this level of combat. Two: he's operating in Blüdhaven, and I don't feel he'd be too keen on leaving. Three: I won't allow it."

"Oh, he couldn't vote," Flash began, grinning, "but when it comes to new members, he has opinions all of the sudden."

He chuckled at his own joke, but upon seeing Batman's glare, immediately quieted down.

"Just throwing this out there," Superman prefaced, "but what about Static?"

"Static," Green Lantern questioned, confused for a second, and then remembering. "The kid from Minnesota? Come on, he's in high school. He'd be too immature, and I couldn't get him ready in five months let alone a few weeks."

"Would he be worse than Lobo, though," Diana asked, a soft grin on her lips, and everyone at the table laughed, save for Batman and J'onn.

"No, I can say that he wouldn't be worse than Lobo," Green Lantern replied, the grin on his face making him appear better than he had looked in days.

"I do wonder," Batman started, the jovial tone almost instantaneously dissipating, "why Static would be turned down when Supergirl is already a sure thing."

"If you didn't agree with Supergirl," Superman said, angrily, "then speak up instead of sitting over there like some silent guardian."

An awkward silence followed, and Batman simply replied, "That didn't address my concern."

"Listen, Supergirl and Static are both young and potentially immature; I grant you that," Superman explained, his anger still obvious, "but Supergirl has a great handle on her abilities, while Static has serious work to do. I was just putting out feelers when I suggested him. If the consensus of the group is that Static would benefit the League, then I'd be happy to admit him."

"Come on, don't you think you might be underestimating Static," Flash inquired.

"Or overestimating Supergirl," Batman darkly added.

"Stop this. Now," Wonder Woman fiercely said, staring both Batman and Superman down. "This isn't helping at all. We should just move on."

"Any other names come to mind," Batman asked, still eying Wonder Woman.

"I've heard some names," Green Lantern spoke up, "but I can't say I know any of them too well. Black Canary, Atom-Smasher, Elongated Man and Huntress."

"I know of Huntress," Batman replied. "She'd be fine. We might as well add Green Arrow too, who operates out in Star City. If we could get him."

"Green Arrow," Superman mused. "I've heard he's pretty good."

"Who in Hera's name is Atom-Smasher," Wonder Woman inquired. "He sounds, well, intriguing."

Green Lantern shook his head. "Never met him. Heard he stopped a few bank robberies and helped during the earthquake we had last year."

Flash, Batman noted, looked as though he really wanted to poke holes in the suggestion, but surprisingly held his tongue.

"And Elongated Man," Wonder Woman continued, not noticing Flash's look of distaste, "I'd think with that name, I'd have heard of him before."

"Some kind of detective, I think," Green Lantern replied. "Pretty sure he's able to stretch his body, limbs and all, to make any shape he wants. Something like that, anyways."

"I can see that coming in handy," Superman said, nodding his head in approval. "I have to admit, though, the name's not at all familiar."

"Honestly," J'onn said, "I do not think many of the names we come up with will be known to us. Still, I am sure the results will be positive."

"What I'm hearing is," Flash stated, "we have a lot of work ahead of us, if we want to ask every person we've mentioned."

"You're the Fastest Man Alive; we have faith in you," J'onn dryly quipped.

"First things first, though," Superman stated, "get a new Watchtower operational and then hire support staff. Once those two are done, then we go on a major recruitment drive."

Around the table, Bruce noticed that every head nodded. Despite his doubts, Batman joined in.

"I see we are agreement," Superman said, his voice proud. "This is a new era for the Justice League. Before, with just seven of us, we defended the Earth from everything you could imagine, from inter-dimensional demons to multiple attempted takeovers of our home. Imagine what we can do with twenty of us." He beamed at his peers.

"With that, I call this meeting adjourned."


	2. Recruitment Part I

**Author's Note:**

**Most chapters won't come this quickly, I admit, but I already had the idea mostly down, so it came out relatively easily.**

**This is the first part of a six-part story. I hope, if you are reading, it comes across as okay. If you've any comments or questions, please let me know, the same if you see any errors. As aforementioned, I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

**I do not own any DC characters.**

* * *

As far as Don could tell, the argument had been started over a song, of all things.

One minute, he was listening to "Billy Don't Be a Hero," and the next, all Hell had broken loose.

"It's this type of garbage that could hurt our boys overseas," Hank yelled furiously, his face beet red. "If we don't show support, if we don't let it known we're backing them up, how will they find the will to keep fighting on?"

"Listen," Don replied, swiftly, yet as calmly as possible, "me playing a song here isn't going to negatively impact the soldiers in Afghanistan, I promise. Just calm down," he said in exasperated. _It's always the same argument again and again_, Don thought, a headache already beginning to come over him.

"It's not only the damn song, Don," Hank shouted, causing a few housemates to glance to the room (though they were admittedly used to hearing the two brothers bicker). "Right now, soldiers overseas are risking their lives to protect your freedom, and you don't have the respect to play something a bit more patriotic?"

Keeping his face straight, though Don felt his brother sounded ridiculous, he replied "I've never been a big fan of Lee Greenwood."

"This isn't a joke," the older brother growled. "I don't understand how you can spit in the faces of those protecting you."

"I've told you before, Hank," Don replied, dragging his right hand haphazardly through his blond hair, "which move protects the troops more: sending them over to some foreign country to die, or ensuring that it doesn't come to warfare and keeping them here, away from bombs and grenades?"

"You unpatriotic punk-"

"Yo, Hank, Don, check this out," yelled the voice of Malcolm, one of their housemates.

Immediately dropping their dispute, they both ran to the living room. Don saw six other people staring at the television, and instantly knew that whatever it was, it wasn't likely to be positive news.

"Looks like the Aiken Center is on fire. Some guys torched the place a few minutes ago," Malcolm filled them in, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Don glanced over at his brother, and saw that he was on the same page. "Hey, we need to go check on some friends. Be back in a bit," the younger brother said, following behind Hank, who had already began running out of the house.

"Hank, hold up," Don yelled, holding his hand out. "We need to strategize."

Hank did so, looking back, annoyance on his face. "How about this: you go make sure everyone got out of the building, and I go after the arsonists."

Don nodded. "That all I wanted. Dove!"

"Hawk!"

Where stood two college students now stood Hawk and Dove, already separating, Dove sprinting down the road to the Aiken Center, Hawk going for a vantage point on the situation, hopefully making it easier to scope out the perpetrators.

_It's a Saturday, thank God_, Dove considered, knowing the center wasn't likely to be packed. _Still, there's the odd man out who might want to get work out of the way. I just hope most people already left the building._

A crowd of students and faculty alike stood around the burning building. Dove saw a few individuals who had scorched clothing. He ran up to them, hoping the appearance of a hero on the scene didn't completely throw them off their game.

"Hey, you kids, do you know if anyone didn't get out," Dove asked urgently.

"Um, I think everyone's," one of them began, then muttered a swear word. "I think there were a few guys on the second floor. I'm not sure, though."

"Thanks," Dove called over his shoulder, rushing to the side entrance of the building. _Luckily I already hear sirens. Shouldn't be more than a minute until they get here_.

Even so, he knew for the time being, as entered the already inferno-esque building, he was alone.

* * *

Hawk leaped onto the dumpster in front of him and scrambled onto the top of the building, surveying the chaotic scene in front of him.

Almost a hundred students were circling the Aiken Center, some crying, others looking around, as if lost. Three fire trucks were trying to pull in, though they were slowed by the increasing amount of people pouring onto the scene to witness the fire.

"Hey, you imbeciles, move," Hawk shouted, catching not only the attention of the students in question, but also of three individuals dressed conspicuously in black, all carrying duffel bags, also gazing at the inflamed construction. Once eye contact was made, Hawk knew he had his guys.

_What's with arsonists anyways_, Hank thought, making a running jump off the building toward the crowd, seeing the men in black bolting already, _sticking around after setting a fire just to watch it burn. It's like asking to be caught._

Not bothering to answer questions fired his way by onlookers, Hawk rushed after the three men, greatly bothered by the impedance caused by the crowd.

"Stop those three," he yelled to no one in particular, and as he expected, no one reacted to his plea.

"Damn it," he muttered, pushing himself to run faster. _On the upside_, Hank considered, _at least I can still see them. If they had split up or something…_

And so he ran, gaining ground slowly, yet knowing this probably wasn't going to be as easy as he had first thought.

* * *

Dove wasn't one to generally lose his cool, but in the midst of heavy flames around him, he was beginning to feel panicked, not to mention a bit on the overheated side.

_No one's yelling for help, at least from what I can hear_, he rapidly thought, bounding up the stairs carefully to the second floor. _Maybe those guys managed to get out or_-

"Hey, can anyone hear us," a loud voice called nearby. "We're in here – someone's passed out. Please," the call ended in desperation.

Without thought, Dove darted down the hall, the heat growing more intense the farther he went.

Reaching the room in question, and seeing fire blocking the entrance, Dove shouted, "Hold on, guys. I'll get you out soon. Just hang on."

He saw a fire extinguisher approximately forty yards away, and with a sigh, he hurried toward it.

* * *

As it turned out, the arsonists weren't completely foolish to Hawk's frustration.

After chasing them down for two minutes, they split up in three different directions. Without much hesitation, he went after the slowest, and minutes later, tackled him to the ground.

"Stand down," Hawk commanded, authority dripping out of every syllable.

His captured assailant did just that, lying limp on the ground as Hawk's knee pressed into his back.

"Why'd you torch the Aiken Center," Hank asked, twisting the man's left arm back. "You'll want to answer me; I assure you."

"Shove it up your a-"

"Wrong answer, buddy," Hawk replied, followed by a crack and a newly-broken arm.

* * *

Dove tossed the used extinguisher aside and walked gingerly into the room, happy to see the only fire near them was at the opposite side. A group of three guys were huddled up in the nearest corner, the one in the middle unconscious, but all of them noticeably shaken up.

"Don't worry guys, I'll help get you out," Dove said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "Can you two walk," he asked, motioning to the conscious members.

"Ye-yeah, we can walk," the older of the two replied nervously. "We were just working on a group project and-"

"I know, I know," Dove quickly replied. "But we need to get your friend out of here before this smoke makes it worse. You'll have to help me out. Is that okay?"

"Of course," the same man confirmed, standing up on wobbly legs. He held his hand out to the hero, saying, "Hell of a time to introduce myself, but I'm Darien. Thanks for helping out."

"Dove," the hero replied, smiling despite the building around them burning down, "and no need to thank me. Just trying to do my duty."

* * *

"Aw, shut up, punk," Hawk yelled as he carried his otherwise silent arsonist on his shoulders. "Here's the game plan: we go check up on my partner, make sure he's okay. Then you give us the answers we're looking for. If you comply, we just may drop you off at a nearby emergency room."

In all honesty, Hawk was unsure how much of his plan the guy heard, yelping as much as he was, but he seemed to get the basic gist, as he then stopped struggling. Finally, he muttered, "Fine, just hurry up, man. I'm really hurting here."

Goosebumps spread over the whole of the assailant's body as he heard Hawk mutter, more to himself than anyone else, "Be happy it was just one arm, asshole."

* * *

It'd only been ten minutes at most, but Dove couldn't remember a time when he'd welcomed the sunlight as much as the present moment. He and Darien helped their unconscious friend out, while the quiet one of the two followed behind, nonetheless glad he lived to see the sun again.

The crowd, not to mention a few firefighters, clapped for the young hero as he emerged from the blaze. A few students even cheered, which, as much as Dove would have wished otherwise, really made him feel good.

After carrying the unconscious young man over to an ambulance, along with a final handshake from Darien and Quentin (_He had a deeper voice than I thought_, Dan randomly thought as he gladly gripped the young man's hand), it didn't take long for Dove to spot his brother, standing across a street with a man on his shoulders. Dove sighed again. _What's he done this time?_

* * *

"Dove, are you alright," Hawk asked, his voice abnormally worried.

"I'm fine," Dove replied, looking at the man in black clothing Hawk had just dropped to the ground, "it's him I'm worried about. He looks injured."

"He tripped when I was chasing him down and busted his arm, I think," Hawk said, unflustered.

_Yeah, and I voted Bush over Gore_, Dove thought skeptically, but refrained from badgering his brother at the moment. "We need to get him to one of those ambulances," he began, bending down to help lift the wounded man, "can you lend a hand?"

"No, he's one of the arsonists," Hawk replied adamantly. "After he answers our questions, he gets help."

"Are you insane," Dove hollered angrily, standing back up straight. "We get him help now, and he can answer for his crimes later. Heck, we don't even need to go after the rest of the arsonists; the police can take it from here."

"Now you listen to me-"

"Whoa, whoa, guys, cool your heels. What seems to be the problem?"

The two young men stood starstruck, because out of nowhere came one of the most respected heroes the world has ever seen, especially with recent events in mind – The Flash.

Both Hawk and Dove remained silent, sharing a glance with each other before looking back at the Flash, unsure of what to say. The silence was broken by the man lying on the ground, who happened to scream.

"Uh, guys, don't you think we should get this guy some medical attention? I don't know how you guys do it in Vermont, but down in Central City, if a guy has a broken arm, we generally try to help them out," Flash said, unsure of himself, clearly feeling as though he was missing something.

"Um, Flash, sir," Hawk began, sounding, much to Don's amusement, like a soldier speaking to his superior, "this man has information about two others who torched the Aiken Center," he motioned over his shoulder, "the building behind us. I felt that if we kept him from getting help, he'd be willing to speak to us."

Flash looked over the two younger heroes dubiously. "Uh-huh, right. I have to warn you right now, guys, we don't work that way in the Justice League. I mean, Bats might, but then again he is Batman, so-"

"Justice League," Dove said, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Let's get this guy help, and then we can talk."

Of course, despite Hawk's misgivings, he helped Dove with the injured assailant without so much as a thought.

* * *

"The League's expanding, and we thought you might be interested," Flash said simply, a minute after receiving a Coke from the diner counter, oblivious to the amazed looks of other customers. "I was told to come down here, assess you guys in action if possible, and make a judgment call."

The two young men nodded enthusiastically, hanging on every word.

"I only saw Dove when he went into the burning building, but I figured that was enough," Flash continued. "I take it the two of you are an 'all-or-nothing' deal?"

Hawk and Dove looked at each other, and without a word spoken, nodded. "Yes," Hawk firmly stated, "we are. You either get both of us, or neither."

"Hey, that's fine, chill," Flash replied. "I'd definitely say the two of you are ready to join the League. Bravery, strength, conviction. You guys got it. What do you say?"

Don looked over at his brother, and for the second time in the last minute, unspoken communication occurred between the two. They both perfectly knew the answer to give. Hank nodded, allowing Dan to give the official reply.

With two words, the Justice League gained two more members: "We're in."

* * *

Angelo Bend yawned, the stakeout going much slower than he had initially anticipated. It was supposed to be an easy, hour-long job, one-day tops. Wait until Mr. and Mrs. Swartz leave their lovely mansion, go in, grab the cache of diamonds, pocket some for himself, and get out. If he had his own way, he'd have just charmed his way onto the premise, but his employer had a very specific mantra, that being 'Don't be seen and don't make a scene equals green.'

He smirked at this. _And I thought I've been corny in the past_.

Still, the pay was good, and Angelo had few qualms waiting if the payout was worth the wait, and this payout definitely was. Angelo mused, _Hell, I might not even pull the costume out. If there's no audience, what's the point?_

Sighing, he rubbed a kink out of his neck, then jumped as he heard a knock on his window.

Quickly looking to his side, Angelo saw an older man looking in on him, a monocle in one eye, his glance hard. _Wouldn't that be a hoot_, he thought wildly, _the thief getting robbed outside of the house he's supposed to rob._

The older man tapped again insistently, motioning to the passenger seat. "Believe me, Mr. Bend," the man said, his voice possessing an almost silky quality, "you'll want to let me in."

Angelo hesitated a few seconds before unlocking the vehicle. The older man walked around the front of the car and opened the door, gingerly climbing into the car.

"Thank you, Mr. Bend," the man replied, his voice still soft. The man, Angelo saw, was an older, well-dressed individual. Aside from the monocle, he was wearing a full suit, bow tie and all. His hair was almost solid black, aside from some of it, which was graying. He held his hand out, and Angelo awkwardly shook it after turning toward him.

"My name is Jonathan Cheval, or, if you like Monocle."

This proclamation was followed by a few seconds of silence from the younger man, and then a loud, boisterous laugh. "Monocle," he said incredulously, chuckling almost uncontrollably, "out of every codename and alias I've ever heard in my life, that one has to be up there with Mirror Master and Captain Boomerang. It's just ridiculous."

"That's rich," Monocle replied good-naturedly, "coming from such an individual who thought fit to christen himself Angle Man."

The laughing tapered off quickly.

"Well, what do you want," Angle Man snarled, his friendly disposition having dissipated in the blink of an eye. "I have a job I should be doing, and I don't know if I can afford wasting much time."

"This isn't a waste, I promise you," Monocle replied vaguely. "I'm recruiting for a group of individuals who, with their combined talents, I feel could decimate the Justice League."

Angle Man stared blankly at the man in his passenger seat. "They just beat off a whole alien invasion. You think five guys with a gimmick will throw them off their winning streak?"

"Ah, but you're right," Monocle gently remarked, "they did just defend the world from such an invasion. In fact, if I heard correctly, they even lost a member in the process. They must feel so drained, both physically and emotionally. So very drained," he stressed, a wicked smile forming on his face. "And if, say, five guys with a gimmick, who otherwise never would be able to defeat the Justice League in their prime, gathered together and tackled them in their current state, why, one would almost think those guys with a gimmick would have a fighting chance."

Angle Man took this in relatively quickly, and despite the usual uncertainties he'd have with attempting to take the Justice League down, he felt Monocle made a fair point. _This could just work out._

"Well, I have to say," Angle Man began, clearing his throat beforehand, "I think your assessment is pretty spot on, now that I think about it. If I was to join up with you, though, and we fail, then we're in a worse place than we are now."

"Luckily, this is not a matter of utter urgency," Monocle replied, "as the League isn't likely to be much better in three weeks than they are now, but I do have to insist that now would be the best time to strike before they can come up with either a new member or new battle plan. At the moment, fate is on our side, and we may not soon get another chance."

Angle Man nodded. "Yes, yes, I see your point." He twirled his mustache a bit before his next statement. A smile crept on his face, slowly. "Where do we begin?"


	3. Recruitment Part II

**Author's Note:**

**Welcome back, all.**

**There's not many notes I need to make, but I did want to make one thing clear I didn't last chapter, that being the locations I talk about are relatively close to being completely accurate. For example, last chapter, the torched Aiken Center is a real building on a real campus in Vermont. I mention some real-life locations in the chapter you're reading now also. I just feel it helps the realism of the story.**

**If you've any questions or comments (about the story, potential grammar mistakes or mistakes of other natures), please let me know via either personal message or a review. Either is perfectly fine.**

**Hope you enjoy this installment.**

**Lastly, I do not own DC, nor do I work for any companies or businesses mentioned in the story.**

* * *

"Can you tell me why we're here again," Lieutenant Samuel Kotter impatiently asked, taking a few gulps of his now cold coffee.

Doctor Light sighed, and turned from the passenger window to the police officer on her left. "I've explained before, Lieutenant," she began politely, though her civility was waning, "I tracked down key members of the Midway City Disciples gang to Spokane, and when I interrogated one of them, it led me here. There is going to be a robbery sometime tonight," she continued, motioning to the set of buildings in front of the parked cruiser, "at Argent Laboratories. If the gang gets what they came for, being batrachotoxin, or BTX, then your police department is going to have a hell of a mess on their hands."

The lieutenant sighed. "This is just conjecture, though," he began, checking his watch and seeing the lateness of the hour. "It's almost 1:30 am anyways. Did it occur to you that maybe these Disciples guys just lied to you? You know, tell you they're robbing Argent, yet wind up in Portland sticking up a Wells Fargo?"

Doctor Light shook her head, and after taking a deep breath, replied, "Listen, I understand your frustration. I'll be the first to admit that dealing with gangs is not my specialty, and I don't much enjoy it. That said, I am positive the information I received was correct, and believe me, if this gang gets this stuff, then I promise you, people will get hurt. You guys don't need to help me out, but I hope you see the importance of this issue."

"Ma'am, I have three cruisers parked around this facility, and have for the better part of five hours now. Personally, I don't object to helping out a hero when they need it," Lieutenant Kotter said with a pained smile, as though he rather did object, "but we can't keep this up all night."

"With all due respect," Doctor Light replied, her eyes no longer on the lieutenant, but back on Argent Laboratories, "I don't think Redmond is the type of place brimming with criminal activity. I don't think you have much to lose."

Kotter shrugged. "That may be. We occasionally get trouble from Seattle, but you're right – for the most part, Redmond is pretty peaceful. Even so-"

"Shh," Doctor Light said suddenly, spying a small group of guys in hoodies approaching from across 152nd Avenue. "See those guys," she motioned with her head. "They're carrying book bags with them, and I don't think they're students."

"Yeah," Kotter replied, eying them as best he could, "and the high school's nowhere near here. What's your plan?"

Doctor Light remained silent as she watched the men cross 152nd, privately glad the lieutenant was on board. "I can probably take them myself pretty easily," she said cautiously, "though if they have weapons of any kind, I would appreciate some backup."

Kotter pulled out his walkie-talkie, and said, with urgency, "Miller, Lathrop, you read me? Over."

The reply came back swiftly, crackling, but still quite clear. "We read you. What's happening? Over."

"I see five individuals dressed in hoodies approaching Argent Labs from 152nd. Don't know if they're in your vantage point yet but keep an eye out. Doctor Light is going to make an approach, and she may require backup should heavy weaponry be present. Over."

"Ten-four. Over and out," the voice replied.

Kotter looked toward the hero next to him. "You good to go?"

"Always," she replied confidently, then quietly opened the cruiser door and exited the vehicle.

* * *

From his binoculars, watching the scene below, Robert DuBois could tell that the situation was about to get ugly. Truth be told, though, when he thought about it, he wouldn't have it any other way.

_I could warn them_, he mused, carefully following his guys from above, occasionally looking over at the costumed woman's approach, _but at this point, there's no way they can get in and out with the batrachotoxin anyways. Shame, really._

The man named Bloodsport didn't feel overly negative about the new development, though. Sure, he'd have relished getting his hands on the overly toxic chemical compound and potentially weaponizing it, but at the same time, he had his doubts the moment he hired the Disciples, and he wasn't one to set his hopes high. _At least I get a show out of this_, he considered, readjusting the bandanna on his head and focusing his binoculars on the heroine just yards away from the unsuspecting gang members. _At least I get a show._

* * *

_Get their attention and blind them_, Doctor Light repeated in her mind, that being her sole plan at the moment, as shaky a plan as it was. _Get their attention and blind them._

As always, coolness ran through her body, and she knew without a doubt that taking down these guys would be a piece of cake. Confidence had long been the pillar of Doctor Light's success, she felt. _If you don't believe you can do it_, she often thought to herself, _then you probably won't be able to_.

_The moment of truth_, she thought, as she shouted, "Hey, stop right there!"

The reaction from the gang members was quick, much quicker than she thought it'd be. Worse, guns were pulled. Doctor Light gritted her teeth as the first gunshot rang out into the relatively quiet night, and she quickly brought forth a stunningly dazzling flash of light.

Even though the gang members were indeed blinded, Doctor Light knew she wasn't completely victorious. Staggering backwards slightly, the blood seeping through her costume made it obvious she'd not come out unscathed.

A solid white beam of light materialized and slammed into the two closest men, and Doctor Light was pleased to see it undoubtedly knocked them both out.

"Hey, lay down your weapons," shouted a voice – a police officer who just joined Doctor Light from the stakeout – to the remaining three gang members. Whether they weren't listening or didn't care, Doctor Light didn't know; they shot wildly without seeing in the direction of the voice.

As swiftly as possible, she threw her arms out to the police officer and just in time, created a hard light barrier, the bullets bouncing off the newly-formed wall. It disappeared as she turned back to her attackers, shouting "Are you guys insane? You shot at law enforcement!"

"I can't see a damn thing, lady," one of the goons began, "but I promise you, when I get my eyesight back, I'll-"

Another round of shots rang out, from both the police officer and another of the gang members. Who shot first, she really didn't know. Taken off-guard, Doctor Light dodged to the side. However, based on the following screams of pain, both sides took casualties.

_Damn, I thought this was under control_, she frantically thought, as she saw three other officers running in their direction. "Stay back," she yelled over her shoulder. "I'll take the last two." _Before someone else gets hurt, I hope._

Though her power was decreasing rapidly (the lack of light was really doing a number on her), with the remainder of her strength, she threw her arms in front of her and created a beam of pure energy, colliding with the two assailants left standing, knocking them off their feet. They landed ten yards away, the firearms flying from their hands.

Gasping at the pain in her right arm, she pulled it to her chest, turned around and hollered, "There's an officer down. You should be safe to approach now."

Officers quickly did so, and Doctor Light shambled over to 152nd Avenue, where a cavalcade of ambulances and police cruisers were speedily pulling in, sirens blaring loudly and flashes of light shining brightly against the dark night. Lieutenant Kotter was standing next to the nearest ambulance, glaring over the now chaotic scene. Doctor Light dragged her feet toward the vehicle, rubbing her temple with her good hand.

"Didn't go too well, I see," Kotter said, noticeably unsympathetically. "You should get your arm patched up. Check in with the station once you're done."

Doctor Light sighed. "Will do, Lieutenant," she replied, utterly defeated. "Will do."

* * *

Bloodsport smirked.

_Well, that was fun._

He walked back and sat down on the rooftop, cross-legged. _I may not have gotten the batrachotoxin, _Bloodsport contemplated, _but that still went relatively well. Nothing like a gunfight to get the blood pumping._

He sat there, motionless, for thirty minutes more, just listening to the sirens and screaming, the chaos and the turmoil. And he loved every minute of it.

* * *

"Yes, he just got here ten minutes back. He's lost a lot of blood," the doctor replied, after Doctor Light had asked him the condition of the shot officer, "but I don't believe he's in critical condition. He'll likely pull through. Now hold still," he added sternly, "I need to sew you up."

Doctor Light groaned, and braced herself.

Tonight, while she may have prevented the robbery at the lab, was in Doctor Light's mind, a complete atrocity. An officer got shot, she herself got shot, and the local police department (rightly so) weren't thinking too fondly of her at the moment. _What a great hero I am_, she bitterly reflected. _I even went in there with a rough plan, and it still came out half-cocked. Damn-_

"Rough night, Doctor," a strong, yet gentle, voice asked.

She looked up, and her heart rate, which was already increased, felt as though it turned up a notch higher. Standing in front of her, in the Redmond Medical Center, was Green Lantern, who just a bit over a week ago helped stave off an alien invasion. At that moment, embarrassing as it may be, she lost all sense of composure.

"You're right, it's really not been going too well," she replied, acutely aware her eyes were beginning to tear up, which was most unlike her. Doctor Light was not one to easily get emotional. "In fact, it's been downright lousy."

"Hey, I know," he said in a soothing tone, moving closer toward her (her doctor had left earlier, which she guessed she must have missed), "I've had some pretty terrible nights myself. Don't punish yourself too much, though; no one would have expected those gangbangers to shoot after they were already blinded. It's not your fault."

"Just shut up," Doctor Light replied, angrily sniffling. "You weren't there – you don't know whose fault it was."

He stared intently at her for almost a minute before replying, his pitch unchanged. "I know whose fault it wasn't."

With her good arm, Doctor Light wiped the tears off her face, turning away from the hero. _The only hero in this room_, she mentally amended. "Listen," she said, not making eye contact with him, her anger having ebbed away from her voice, "I know you're trying to help, but now's really not the time."

"On the contrary," he replied without missing a beat, "now's the best time to talk about this. If you can't live with a relatively small failure, then how do you expect to deal with the type of stuff the Justice League goes through on an almost daily basis?"

This caught Doctor Light by surprise. "Wha-what," she began, stumbling, "do you mean? Justice League?"

"I came down here to offer you a position with the League," Green Lantern calmly explained, "we're expanding, in part due to the recent invasion, and we undeniably have a place for you. That is, if you're willing to accept."

"Even after tonight," she asked, hating the pouting inflection she inquired with.

"Was tonight the first time you felt you failed," Green Lantern shot back at her, the previous gentle nature of his voice slowly draining. "Cause if not, I'd recommend you suck it up. A cop got shot, and sure, that's not good, but at least he'll pull through and go home. Hell, you're lucky only one cop got shot – it could have been a total bloodbath. Stuff like this happens. If one occurrence can throw you off your game, then I honestly don't know if you have what it takes to join the League."

This fired Doctor Light up, and she heard herself bark back, "I've been fighting criminals for the last five years. Sure, it may not be anything compared to you hotshots, but I've definitely paid my dues. Am I ready for the League? Perhaps not completely, but if you don't think I could do it, then what the hell are you doing here now?"

"That's what I wanted to see," Green Lantern replied, surprising Doctor Light by smiling. "Fire."

"Does that mean I'm in," she asked, a blush coming to her cheeks. "I mean, yelling at a superior isn't the best way to start-"

"Don't worry about it," he replied nonchalantly. "Welcome to the Justice League."

With a handshake, Doctor Light felt as though she solidified her place in life. _A member of the Justice League_, she considered. _Way to go, Kimiyo. You did it._

* * *

Nearing 2:00 am, Bloodshot still hadn't moved from the rooftop, and the chaos below had almost fully subsided. A firefight was fantastic, but even better, the stillness that followed, allowing for endless contemplation.

It was only when he heard footsteps nearby he quickly grabbed for his gun lying to his side, but before he could, someone had kicked said gun away.

"The hell," he muttered, standing upright, facing a much older, white man, wearing, of all things, a monocle.

"Mr. DuBois," he said, his tone polite, "it's a pleasure to meet you. I have a proposition that you may be intrigued in…"

* * *

The starry night above absolutely enamored Monocle. As Bloodsport walked away, in agreement with the former's plans, Monocle smiled. _It's easier than I thought. Much easier._


	4. Recruitment Part III

**Author's Note:**

**Though it's been a while, I welcome you back.**

**Just to clarify, I follow the timeline of the DCAU that was posted on DCAU Resource - it's an unofficial timeline, but it's the one I accept. I say that just to make clear that this story-arc, Recruitment, takes place from June to July of 2002, starting mere days after the events of the last episode of Justice League, Starcrossed Part III. The official formation of the League, the day that Green Arrow comes up to the Watchtower in the first episode of Justice League Unlimited, is August 2, 2002. Dates in this story can be important, as they can reflect real-world events.**

**I do have the rest of the foreseeable future of this story planned out, so I'll be eager to get there when I do. Sorry for the long wait between chapters, and hope you enjoy Recruitment Part III. Please leave a review or send a PM if interested.**

**I do not own DC, nor do I work for anyone else at the moment.**

* * *

Atop the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, facing Brooklyn, B'wana Beast stood tall in deep thought, the wind fiercely blowing around him.

_The Mac Ballers are moving heroin sometime this week_. This much he knew from a street acquaintance. However, as far as the route was concerned, B'wana Beast hadn't been able to discover that for sure. Rumor had it, though, much of the heroin the Mac Ballers possessed was sold in and around Maria Hernandez Park, which is what pissed off the generally flippant hero the most.

_My damn backyard, for Pete's sake_, he thought for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, his features, had anyone been able to see him, etched in fury.

If B'wana Beast had been able to get more concrete evidence of the Mac Baller's involvement, he might even have brought in the police, but as it was, he was taking this new knowledge rather personally.

Two ambulances, followed swiftly by a single NYPD squad car, passed below, their shrill sirens bringing B'wana Beast back down to Earth. Peering downward at the source of the sirens, he muttered to himself, "Somebody going ta emergency, somebody's going ta jail."

For ten minutes more, he stood there, his mind close to blank, just staring over the whole of Brooklyn, occasionally focusing in on Bushwick, his own neighborhood. _God_, he thought, _Bushwick's in such bad condition. Hell, I guess almost every neighborhood in the city is. _Amazingly, though, as B'wana Beast slowly began his descent down the bridge, he still loved this city. Pride, almost indescribable, filled up his chest when he thought about it.

_My home has had enough jackwads messing with it recently_, he angrily thought, and shuddered, trying to block out the screams that still haunted him to this day. _There's no way in hell these damn gangbangers are screwing it up even more_.

And though B'wana Beast had never, in his career as a costumed hero, went after a gang, one thought repeated in his mind. _They're going down._

* * *

On the three-hour walk back to his apartment, B'wana Beast wondered how exactly to go after the Mac Ballers. That, and he prevented three purse thieves and two pick-pocketers from getting away, plus interrupted an armed robbery attempt at Ginger's, of all places.

Crossing Jefferson and Wilson mindlessly, mostly ignoring the catcalls he was receiving from those around him (insofar as Bushwick and surrounding neighborhoods were concerned, he was a bit of a legend) he suddenly heard, "¡Hola, Señor Beast! ¿Cómo estás?"

B'wana Beast looked back, and Carlos, a street acquaintance, was running to catch up with him. "Bien gracias, I think," he replied, his voice gruff. "I was never no good at that Spanish stuff."

"Está bien, está bien," Carlos said, smiling at him. "Hungry," he asked, motioning his head to L.A. Burrito, a Spanish restaurant just ahead of them. "Come in. I buy."

"Hey," B'wana Beast replied hesitantly, "I don't wanna impose or nothing-"

"No, no," Carlos politely protested, "You save me from that mugger months ago. This can be," he paused for a split second, clearly in thought, "repayment, no?"

"Don't that joint," B'wana Beast began, motioning to the restaurant ahead of them, "have a sign 'No shirt, no service' or something like that?"

Carlos looked at the hero's bare chest and shrugged. "Estarían locos para que negar el servicio, señor. You help every person in this neighborhood all the time. You're a Godsend."

For the first time that day, it felt, B'wana Beast smiled. "Thank you," he replied, "that really means a lot."

And it did. As he walked with Carlos into the restaurant, the sentiment continued to resonate with him, even through the leery glares the owners of the restaurant were giving him.

He also thought of a way to approach the brewing trouble of the Mac Baller Brims. His experience was limited with this type of stuff, but after listening to Carlos' growing concerns about the gang's power in the neighborhood, something B'wana Beast had missed somehow, he knew he had to tackle the problem.

_Nothing wrong with starting tomorrow_, the hero considered. _I'll tackle them so hard, they ain't never getting up again._

* * *

However, sometimes, often even, life doesn't work out as planned, as he was awoken the next morning, at the early hour of 3:39 am, by his pager.

He jerked upward and, wearing only boxers, groggily went downstairs and grabbed the old, rotary phone on the wall, quickly dialing a number in the pitch black conditions of his crappy apartment.

"Hey, Mike, get your ass over heah. There's a big one over in Hollis. Dave is yanking almost everyone in," the voice on the other line said without delay.

"Alright already, Jim," he replied with a groan. "I'll be over there as soon as I get dressed."

"You could come as is," the voice replied, his New York accent, amazingly so, thicker than even Mike's, "maybe put the fire out instantly."

"Get outta here, ya wisenheimer," Mike countered, though a thin smile came onto his lips. "Give me a few – I'll be there."

Mike sighed and hung up the phone, Jim already having done so seconds earlier. Sure, being a firefighter was perhaps one of the most rewarding careers he could think of, but that combined with his costumed-hero routine, well, it just drained him some days.

* * *

Not two minutes later, Mike Maxwell, now fully dressed, was driving his '96 Jeep Cherokee through the less busy (it was never completely calm in NYC, Mike knew, as he lived most of his life there) streets, heading to the fire station in Queens.

_I sure hope it's not as bad as Jim made it sound_, he thought, though he knew it'd be hopeless to consider such. _When everyone gets the page_, another friend of his once said, _might as well buy your wife expensive jewelry, cause you're not going back home 'till the last flame's out._ Mike cringed at this memory – the friend in question died less than a year ago in front of him.

He shook his head, blotting out the face that was swarming into his mind. _Back ta the mission_, he thought quickly. _Don't need to think about that now. Think about the Mac Ballers._

_Best case scenario_, he contemplated, turning his thoughts to the fire that he's going to face, _we're done by 10:00 am. Won't get back to Bushwick 'til 11:00. Damn it._

Though Mike full-well knew that at any moment he could get a page, he honestly hoped that today would be clear. He had intended to, at 6:00 am that morning, go out to Maria Hernandez Park, costume and all, to scout the area out. He didn't expect to make contact with the Mac Baller Brims; nonetheless, if he did happen to have the chance, it'd have been nice to maybe see the gang in action, and take note of what members were trolling his streets.

_Later, then_, he forced himself to think, then, perhaps because he was still partly tired, broke into loud, boisterous laughter. "Not like I can do anything else," Mike said to himself through his heavy chuckles.

The laughter continued all the way to Queens, dispersing unheard by others into the inky night.

* * *

Though he hadn't meant to, and he even told himself before he got home to avoid this behavior, Mike had leapt onto his bed from a room away. He landed on target without issue; however, the sudden weight caused one of the bed's legs to give out, and a rather loud _thud_ followed.

On the now-slanted bed, Mike Maxwell was almost already unconscious. While he's had harrowing times before (in both of his career fields), today was a dozy. Worse, he hadn't been able to get back to his apartment until almost 2:00 pm, and he was far too bushed to even consider going out incognito.

He let a large yawn out. _The best laid plans and all that_, he thought. Seconds later, he drifted off, and after five minutes, he was completely out, lying on his slanted mattress, snores escaping him already.

There were days in which B'wana Beast knew he could juggle both his careers; in fact, for the most part, he handled it pretty well. As aforementioned, though, sometimes days don't go as planned.

* * *

The hazy Thursday morning air crept into Mike's apartment, through a cracked window he still had yet to repair, and though he hated himself immensely for putting himself through this, Mike Maxwell stood up, his whole body sore.

He sighed, and without so much as a delay, began rummaging for his costume, or more specifically, his loincloth, as his boots and helmet were stored at the foot of the bed as usual.

_Oh, great_, he groaned, as he saw his newly-damaged bed. _Like I really have the time to fix that up._ Shaking his head, he pulled off his clothes, and donned his superhero identity. With a final sigh, he went to the back of his apartment, and leapt down the rickety fire escape.

The sun had just began to rise as B'wana Beast reached Maria Hernandez Park. As expected, save for a few elderly folks, the park was empty, which he was glad to see.

The plan was simple, yet, at the same time, B'wana Beast felt it was slightly stupid. He thought, as he began climbing, _I can't believe I'm staking out this place in a flippin' tree._

But nonetheless, he did. Agilely, he crouched on a low tree branch, watching over the early morning activities of the park.

An hour passed eventless. And another. Speaking to birds only gave him so much entertainment, and more bothersome, that last Eurasian curlew was giving him far too much sass than he felt he could take in his worn-out state. An almost unbearable ennui struck him, and he thought, _I can only take so much more of this. An hour more tops, and I'm out. _Feeling guilty, he realized that he could be better spending his time on other matters. If worse comes to worse, he'd just come out again tomorrow morning.

Stretching his arms out and yawning, he glanced toward the Suydam Street entrance of the park and saw, for the first time all morning, something potentially promising. A twenty-something year-old kid, with ridiculously large earrings, strolled slowly into the park alone, glancing around him. He sat at a bench facing B'wana Beast, completely oblivious to the figure watching over his every motion.

_The hell is a white kid doin' up this early here_, the hero considered, staring hard at the young man. The fact that the kid was Caucasian was suspicious, as the large majority of Bushwick was of Latino descent. The thing that bothered B'wana Beast more, though, was the fact that despite his age, he was up at this early hour.

_It's summertime for Pete's sake_, shaking his head in disgust. _If I was still twenty, I wouldn't be up 'til half past noon._

The young man then patted his left pocket, as if checking for something, and B'wana Beast distinctly saw the outline of a bag of some sort. _Likely heroin, but even if it's not, the kid's holdin'. Selling stuff in my neighborhood._

He clenched his right fist. Now B'wana Beast was angry. Just yesterday, while eating with Carlos, Carlos bemoaned the decreasing safety of the neighborhood. His son had turned ten three weeks prior, and Carlos was worried he'd join some gang if things were still bad in years to come. B'wana Beast, as best he could, comforted his friend, telling him that Bushwick was sure to improve.

Staring down at this young man, with some type of narcotics on him, B'wana Beast realized nothing would get better if the Mac Baller Brims kept their firm hold on NYC. His face grim, he turned his gaze from the boy and looked around the park, making sure few were around. Luckily, save for this soon-to-be unlucky man and a group of older ladies birdwatching, Maria Hernandez Park seemed empty.

_Well_, he mused, _if Batman can do it, so can I_.

With that, B'wana Beast leapt from the tree toward the young man on the bench.

* * *

In a remote alley a few blocks from the park, B'wana Beast was torn between amusement and annoyance that the young man he was holding over his shoulder was still screaming profanities, as he had been ever since he first tackled him.

While not one to generally interrogate suspects, he knew that special occasions called for special measures. Hence, he pinned the young man against the wall, and quickly pulled out the bag of heroin from the man's pocket. He threw it to the ground in disgust.

"The hell is wrong wit you, man," the guy yelled, clawing at B'wana Beast's right hand. "Let me go now or I'll-"

"Just stop with your yapping," B'wana Beast forcefully said. "I just have a few questions, and then you'll be free to go. Capisce?"

The young man looked at him, with both confusion and anger. B'wana Beast sensed a little fear also.

"Are you with the Mac Baller Brims," the hero asked slowly, trying to emulate a threatening voice.

"No, man," he replied, quickly. "I just sell on my own. I don't work for nobody."

"Ya wanna try again," B'wana Beast replied. "'Cause if you're lying, and I found out – well, things could get mighty ugly."

The young man gulped, and before long, said, "Fine. I'm not a member. That's true, I swear to God. But my brother-" he stopped, the look of pained betrayal on his face.

"Your brother is a Mac Baller," B'wana Beast asked. "Just nod ya head."

"Ye-yeah, he is," the young man stammered, obviously shaken. "I got that stuff from him so I could make my own dough. I'll stop though, I promise. I won't do it no more."

"What's ya name," the hero replied. "I ain't gonna go through your pockets any more. Just be honest and this'll all be over."

"Micah," he replied swiftly. "My brother's Marcus. Please, I won't do this again. Just let me go."

B'wana Beast stared at this pitiful begging, torn. "Okay, listen up," he replied, "I'll let ya go, on one condition."

Micah nodded his head frantically, and replied, "Sure, whatever you want, man."

"I want to meet up with you tomorrow morning. Same place – Maria Hernandez. And you'll tell me a time and location of a Mac Ballers meet-up. Any of 'em, I don't care. You don't come here tomorrow with that piece of information, and I'll screw up your life so much you'd think you were a neo-Nazi ovah in the Bronx. Ya hear me?"

Trembling all over, Micah nodded again. B'wana Beast let him go, and he crumbled to the ground. He looked up at the hero and got up as quickly as possible. Micah then began running.

_Worked out pretty well_, B'wana Beast thought, watching Micah scampering away. _Scared the crap outta him with my Batman routine. Gonna have to try that again someday_. He grinned, albeit darkly. _If the kid can get me what I want, then maybe this whole thing will be tied up by tomorrow, at least as far as Bushwick is concerned. Let the NYPD take care of the bosses. If I can stop that garbage from entering my neighborhood, I've won._

With that positive thought in mind, B'wana Beast began walking back home, in all likelihood, to catch a few more winks.

He did so without trouble.

* * *

The factory, long-since abandoned, looked almost spooky against the shimmering light of the moon. _Doesn't help matters that it's getting chilly_, B'wana Beast thought, shivering. At times like this, he'd wished he had a shirt component to his costume.

It was approximately 38 hours later, nearing 11:00 pm. B'wana Beast stood where he's been standing the last hour and a half – on an unused fire escape facing the building in which three to eight members of the Mac Baller Brims were meeting tonight. At least, according to Micah.

_There's no way in hell the kid's lying ta me_, he reassured himself, sure he was right. _It ain't no setup neither. They'll be here._

And thirty minutes later, they arrived. Two sleek, light gray Chevrolet Avalanches pulled up to the side of the empty building. Out stepped five distinct individuals, and B'wana Beast, his eyesight not at all hindered by the quickly decreasing light, took note of each one.

_Only a few of 'em have guns_, B'wana Beast saw, and smiled. _This shouldn't be too bad at all._

The men swiftly scurried into the factory, and a few minutes later, B'wana Beast bounded down toward the entrance.

* * *

The first two went down easy, all things considered. Though some of the bodyguards were damn quick, B'wana Beast had just the edge on them. That, and the gang members had absolutely no idea at all what had hit them in the first thirty seconds of the conflict.

He had gotten cocky, though, and right before he had knocked out the third guard (_a jackwad who thought a Mohawk and the color yellow went together)_, a bullet entered his leg, and got lodged in there deep.

B'wana Beast was now kneeling on the ground, looking around him for the final two individuals – a spiky, green-haired kid, and an older, Asian man, likely the leader in this little get-together.

The green-haired gang member was bolting across the empty, expansive floor of the factory. The Asian Mac Baller, B'wana Beast was disappointed to notice, was no longer in sight.

_Three down_, the now-sweaty hero considered, _two to go_. He cringed as he stood up. _God, how cliché. Gotta stop doing that._

"Blasted leg hurts like hell," he muttered, and then leapt toward the last remaining gang member in sight. While initially he'd thought he could ignore the gunshot wound for the most part, he had to admit, a bullet lodged in his leg made catching up considerably more difficult.

Luckily, he didn't have to.

While the green-haired man was looking over his shoulder back at B'wana Beast, he collided unexpectedly into what he thought was a wall, and was knocked unconscious almost instantly. That wall, to B'wana Beast's surprise, was none other than Wonder Woman.

She looked up from the crumpled body on the floor to him, standing ten feet away. "B'wana Beast, I presume?"

"Yeah," he replied roughly, and began walking gingerly toward her, "and while I'm pleased to meet ya, ya caught me at a bit of a bad time."

"I can see that," Wonder Woman replied, motioning her head to the body below her. "Is this some gang?"

"The Mac Baller Brims," B'wana Beast confirmed, now standing close in front of her. "One got away before I could get ta him. I need to track that bozo down and take him out. Every second wasted here is another five feet for the jerkwad."

"You do know you're wounded, yes," she asked, almost sardonically B'wana Beast thought.

"I'll worry about it after the guy's down," he replied gruffly. "Listen," he added, again feeling anger grow inside him slowly, "other times, most times, I'm a much more fun guy ta be around. This week's just been more stressful than usual and these assholes are selling smack in my own backyard."

"Care at all if I tag along," Wonder Woman simply asked, a look of satisfaction on her face.

"Naw, but this is personal, so I'm in charge," he replied, then without so much as a warning, leapt to the door the Asian man most likely exited. The heroine quickly turned to follow, thinking about the potential this new face showed, and what he could add to the Justice League.

* * *

As it turned out, Wonder Woman's presence was virtually inconsequential. After ten minutes of manic leaping, with her flying lazily behind, B'wana Beast caught up with a scared, middle-aged Asian man. At first, Wonder Woman was admittedly skeptical that this was the intended target, as she felt he appeared harmless enough. That is, until he pulled out a gun.

Swiftly, B'wana Beast disarmed the man, then threw him hard against a wall. He then pulled him up, and pressed him hard against said wall.

"Listen, ya bozo, are you selling smack in Bushwick? Yes or no," he asked menacingly.

The man nodded his head, and replied, "I am, we are. Don't kill me."

"You the boss of what the Mac Ballers do in Bushwick?"

"Yes," the man replied, his voice sterner, "but killing me will accomplish nothing. Someone will just replace me. You can't stop us from selling here."

B'wana Beast's eyes drilled into his opponents. "Wanna bet on that?"

There came no reply, and B'wana Beast added, "Here's what ya gonna do. Go to your boss, and tell him if they keep selling drugs in Bushwick, I'll come after each and every one of you punks. I got names, and I got connections. Ya think you can last long with Superman and Batman breaking up every single transaction ya try ta make?" The man stared in absolute horror at the implications of B'wana Beast's words.

"Cause if ya do, think again," the hero finished, and shoved him back hard, knocking him out.

As the threat was now out of commission, he knelt down, apparently greatly in need of a breather, massaging his bleeding leg.

_Ya did it_, he thought wildly to himself. _Ya did it_. Taking a few more deep breaths, he stood up and ambled slowly to Wonder Woman, whose presence now did rather befuddle him. He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet ya," he said, gently taking the woman's hand. "What can I do ta help ya out?"

"The League's increasing its membership," she replied, not wasting any time, wanting her new acquaintance to get medical assistance as soon as possible, "and if you so choose, you're welcome to join our ranks."

After a few seconds, B'wana Beast found his voice. "Are ya sure? I mean, I'm flattered of course, but I've not really done much outside of Brooklyn. I didn't fight off no Thanagarians. There's a gal over in Manhattan, Vixen, who'd do a helluvah lot better than me in the League. I'm not that type of hero."

"We've already asked Vixen, and she's agreed to join. You're up," Wonder Woman replied, smiling. She stood silent for a few seconds, appearing torn. When she finally resumed, her voice was considerably gentler. "I'll be honest, when we did some background research on you, we looked into your personal life. You're a firefighter, yes?"

Surprised, though considering that he shouldn't be, he nodded. "But I don't think," he added, "it's right you go poking inta my life like that."

"We had to make sure we offered positions to only the best," Wonder Woman diplomatically replied. "The point is, you were here during the 9/11 attack. On duty."

"We all were on duty that day," B'wana Beast replied darkly, feeling slightly choked up at the memories. "I lost some great friends. I got in, got out, and survived. Many didn't. That doesn't make me a hero."

Her voice firm, Wonder Woman said, "Yes, it does."

Neither one spoke for almost a minute, until B'wana Beast nodded and said, "I'll join, but I'll need ta be part-time or something. I don't want to give up my job down here."

"That's fine," she said smoothly. "It'll be arranged. Welcome," Wonder Woman added, a smile now reappearing on her face, "to the Justice League."

* * *

Roger Hayden couldn't believe the luck he had. After only five months in Belle Reve, he was collected by one Jonathan Cheval, or, as he preferred to be called, Monocle.

And now here he was, the secret base of a group of villains fated to finally remove the Justice League from the equation. While the man who took on the moniker Psycho-Pirate wasn't entirely sure what to expect, one thing was obvious: he didn't quite expect this.

Looking around distastefully, he warily eyed Monocle, standing to his left. "This," Psycho-Pirate skeptically began, spreading his arms out to the dark, musty, old wreck of a building, "is it? And people think I'm crazy," he ended in a mutter.

"Such a location will work quite fine for our purposes, I assure you," Monocle replied, looking, to Psycho-Pirate's amusement, slightly hurt.

The sparse open room before them, Psycho-Pirate guessed, had previously been a factory of sorts. Dilapidated to the extreme, as portions of the wall throughout were crumbled, Psycho-Pirate could swear he could see the stars from where he was standing. Inside.

"What in the hell can even make a hole that size," Psycho-Pirate asked, motioning toward the opening with his head.

Before Monocle could reply, another voice rang out, causing Psycho-Pirate to jump.

"I'd say Thanagarians, but this building's way older."

From the darkness walked out a taller, bald-headed African-American male. He nodded his head curtly at the new individual in front of him. "I'm Bloodsport. You're our new friend, ain't ya?"

Psycho-Pirate stared at the man before him, and began laughing. Both Monocle and Bloodsport looked at their new partner in confusion, hoping for an explanation. The laughter subsided into giggling, and Psycho-Pirate shrugged at the both of them. His voice now deadly serious, he replied, "It's perfectly okay. I'm unstable, but the doctors still think I'm able to operate heavy machinery. Cranes, and the like."

Bug-eyed, Bloodsport glanced in desperation to Monocle, who curtly shook his head. The message, as far as Bloodsport was concerned, was clear – don't antagonize the lunatic. The black man walked away without another word, though Psycho-Pirate could swear he heard the man muttering to himself once he got a considerable distance.

"You seem to have unsettled one of your partners," Monocle stated, he himself not entirely sure what he just witnessed. "I have to admit, I had hoped you'd be more inclined to show some, shall we say, team spirit."

"When the going gets tough, don't worry," Psycho-Pirate replied, the tone of his voice now completely normal, "I'll back you all up. How many more were you going to recruit?"

"Ideally, three," Monocle replied. "After we recruit the last few people, we'll work together on the best plan of attack for a few weeks. After which, we should be good to go."

"A few weeks," Psycho-Pirate dubiously echoed. "Aren't you taking a bit longer than what's smart?"

"I've oft heard it said," Monocle said, "and I've been at this for some time now, that slow and steady wins the race. Barging into a bank and demanding the Justice League face us while we all still barely know each other is what I would consider unwise."

"Hey, whatever floats your boat," Psycho-Pirate replied. He glanced around, still very unimpressed with his surroundings. "Do I even get a bed in this place?"

"We've converted the smaller offices into rooms. I'll have Angle Man, another associate of our, show you around."

And with that, he went to collect Angle Man. After telling him briefly about his duties of showing the new teammate around, he added to "not be too concerned with any displays of insanity." Angle Man shook his head in disapproval at this, but went to him anyways.

* * *

Minutes later, Monocle pressed a hidden button on the wall of an unused closet. The wall opened up slowly, and Monocle quietly descended the stairs to a hidden portion of the factory.

Keeping his mind clear, walking past crumbling walls and deplorable conditions overall, he reached a small room, the door still amazingly intact. After three minutes, a reply came. "Please come in."

Monocle did, and faced his employer. Or, more accurately, the person who thought he was employing Monocle.

"I just wished to inform you, dear friend," Monocle began, "that I have recently received and returned with Psycho-Pirate. I agree with your assessment – he can be greatly useful to our cause.

The man slowly nodded. After a few minutes, he replied, "Thank you for this. And are we on track?"

"Yes, we should be able to strike the Justice League in three weeks' time."

"Perfect," the man replied. A few more minutes passed silently, and he eventually asked, "Is that all, friend?"

"It is, yes. I will keep you up-to-date should anything occur you should know about. Until then, I bid you adieu." Monocle bowed, then turned from him and began walking away.

After minutes of trying to keep his mind blank, Monocle realized how close he was to his ultimate goal, and yet how easy it'd be to mess up somehow. _Won't mess up_, he thought to himself.

_The Turtle's going down._


	5. Recruitment Part IV

**Author's Note:**

**Not too much to say. This is the fourth part of my Recruitment storyline, and believe it or not, things are building up to the conclusion. There will be two more parts, and then afterwards, we'll be partaking in a whole new story.**

**If you are so inclined, let me know how you feel about the story via private message or review. Also, don't be wary of letting me know about potential errors, and more so, if you have any questions about the story or characters, please ask.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**I do not own DC, nor any of their characters.**

* * *

If you live in Chicago, and you're an old-timer, you've likely heard the name Lee Travis, most well-known for his talk radio show, covering current events and city politics. While the opinions of Mr. Travis don't fit everyone's taste, if you tune in weeknights at 8:00 pm, you cannot deny his devotion to uncovering the truth, be it a crooked mayor or a union president on the Mafia's payroll. His commentary has been a staple of Chicago's civic-minded community for almost 35 years, but again, if you're an old-timer, and you still listen to the radio, you don't need to be told this – you know already.

What you may not know is that Lee Travis is more than what meets the eye. Much more.

* * *

_I can do this_, the young man thought, glancing nervously over at his much older host, Mr. Lee Travis. He caught the latter's eye, and while Travis nodded his head at him with a small smile, Edward Thane could barely muster up a grin.

"You okay to go in 45," a man called out to the both of them from the doorway of the recording studio, brushing his long gray hair out of his eyes.

"Of course, Wade" Travis replied, his voice firm. "This next segment will be longer, so if you need to, push back the ads until I give the signal." With that, the man exited and Travis looked over at the young, tense man, sweating very visibly. "I know I've said this before," he began, "but I appreciate you being here, Mr. Thane. I know this next segment will be difficult, but just be honest, say what you told to me, and it'll be okay. You'll be fine," he finished smoothly.

Edward nodded and took a deep breath, then reached for his mug of now lukewarm coffee. His host was looking over the handwritten notes in front of him one last time prior to going live. A long sigh escaped the young man. _Yeah, I'll be okay_, he considered. _I know that. God, I haven't been this scared in a long time, though._

That much, Mr. Lee Travis could tell easily, though only having known Edward Thane an hour tops. It was just that obvious.

* * *

"And we're back to the Lee Travis Report. To those at home listening, this is Lee Travis. Some people have said I fight for the truth, whether or not you wanted to know it. I guess that's one way to describe me," Lee Travis began, smiling as he spoke into the microphone in front of him. "To recap, joining me tonight is Mr. Edward Thane. He is a previous employee of Alderman Richard Duggle of the 23rd Ward. We spoke to him briefly minutes ago, but for those of you tuning in, please welcome Mr. Thane."

Travis nodded toward Thane, and nervously, he stammered into the microphone, "Than-thank you for having me, Mr. Travis."

"Lee's fine, son," he said with a smile, which oddly calmed Edward down a considerable amount. "Of course you, the ever-constant listener, know that last week, yours truly presented accusations that Duggle was receiving payoffs from large corporations, ensuring a blind eye should anything less than laudable occur from said corporations. We identified some of the corporations in question – SolarXME, Yellowtrail Construction and Keegan Chemicals, among others – while even more still remain unknown. Mr. Thane has agreed to join us tonight to discuss the full extent of Mr. Duggle's alleged involvement. Is this correct thus far, Mr. Thane?"

"It is, yes," Edward replied, wiping off his forehead with a napkin, happy these proceedings weren't televised, "though I should make clear that not only large companies got involved. Some smaller ones certainly showed interest in paying off Mr. D-" he stopped himself, quickly carrying on, "my former employer also."

"Noted," Travis replied, nodding at Edward. "In what capacity did you work for Mr. Duggle?"

"My official title was 'private assistant,'" Thane answered, his voice growing ever-more confident the longer he spoke, staring not at the microphones now, but Lee's twinkling eyes, "which I basically was for the most part. I performed the necessary odd jobs for him."

"And what, pray tell, did these odd jobs entail?"

"Meeting people he couldn't meet himself," Thane began, counting off his fingers, "collecting packages for him, inputting data on his computer, arranging conferences, that kind of stuff."

"And how did you attain that position with Mr. Duggle," Travis asked.

"I got it three months after graduating UIC in 1998. I was interviewed and hired quickly afterwards."

"At the time, did you ever detect anything off about your employer?"

"Not at all," Edward replied honestly. "He seemed a nice enough guy, and also pretty popular in his ward. Plus," he sheepishly added, a blush coming to his cheeks, "I was just happy to get a job so soon after college."

"Can't blame you there, son," Travis replied, admirably enough. "At what point in time did you first suspect Mr. Duggle was potentially involved in unsavory actions?"

"Well, I've walked in on him having conversations with people, both in person and on his cell," Edward began, "and all of the sudden, he'd sorta clam up. This happened multiple times, and it always struck me as a little odd. Even after that, though, I didn't really feel suspicious until the 1999 election."

"Yes, and what about the 1999 election tipped you off," Travis inquired.

"He won with 85%," Edward simply said. "I know that he was well-liked in the ward," he explained, "but that seemed a bit high. I tried to ask him about the returns, see if I could look at any of the polling data, but he blew me off each time, and after a little while, I just let it drop."

"And you never inquired on the matter with him after that?"

"Naw," Thane replied, physically shaking his head. "I did try to look into it myself though, when I had free time. Stuff like looking into the people he spoke to, checking in on appointments he made with some of the more suspicious people. Truth be told," he added, blushingly, "I'm not much of a detective. I didn't really find much."

"But you still left, just a little over a year after the 1999 election," Travis pressed on. "Why did you resign?"

"Cause, and I know this will sound stupid to some people," he hastily replied in a self-defensive manner, "I knew something was up with him. I didn't know if he was corrupt for sure, but it didn't feel right. It was a feeling I had, and I couldn't shake it. I'll admit, I wasn't even sure anything was off about him at all until I had just about finally left."

"And what happened to convince you he was dirty," Travis asked, now at the meat of the issue at hand.

"I ran into a guy who runs a small but growing chemical lab, and he wanted to talk to Duggle. He musta thought I was in on it with him, because he started talking to me about how if there's some type of mishap with the chemicals his workers are handling, he'd like someone to back him up. He had $50,000 with him."

"Astounding," replied Travis. "Am I to take it that it was after that you left his employment?"

"I did, yes. The same day, I think."

"And Duggle never tried to pay you off, to keep what you knew from coming out," Travis inquired, about to wrap up this segment of the interview, keeping his eye on his producer.

"No. I'm sure he knows I know, but maybe he never really thought about me as a threat." Sheepishly, he added, "Guess he was wrong."

"I guess he was too, son," Travis replied, smiling. "With that folks, we'll take you to a commercial. When we return, we'll talk to Mr. Thane about how these new allegations are likely to proceed, and later, we'll discuss the upcoming gubernatorial election, and see if Jim Ryan's biggest roadblock is Blagojevich, George Ryan, or Jim Ryan himself. We'll be right back."

* * *

"You did really well tonight, Edward," Lee Travis said commendably, smiling at the young man before him. "If you want, we can even find a place for you on the show as a regular guest."

"Oh, God no," Thane replied quickly, and the both of them chuckled. "Thanks for the offer, but my finance would kill me. She already thinks I'll end up like Russell Crowe in The Insider."

"I sincerely doubt it," Lee replied good-naturedly, "but if it comes to that, I wish you luck. Again," he added, his face now serious, "I deeply thank and commend you for talking to me tonight. You came across to our listeners as the man you are: courteous, honest, and reliable. These next few weeks might be a bit bumpy, but you'll manage, I'm sure."

"Of course," Edward said, holding his hand out to the much-older man. "Thanks for letting me on, Mr. Travis."

Grasping his hand, Lee Travis smiled. "Anytime, friend. Anytime."

* * *

The mood was somber in the studio as Lee Travis was feeling, for one of the first times in his life, his actual age. Without the smile, or the twinkle of his eyes, of the previous night, he motioned for to go live. Seconds later, he was.

"Welcome to the Lee Travis Report, your source of political commentary and city news," he began, without much spirit. "And tonight, we are continuing the coverage of the 23rd Ward's Alderman, Richard Duggle. In the last week, he has been accused of both taking bribes from corporations and rigging his elections. I now add one more charge," Lee Travis grimly stated, his face stern in every muscle, "tonight, at this moment, I am accusing Mr. Duggle of murder."

"Last night, we had on our show the young, Mr. Edward Thane, a former employee of the accused, who informally testified against Mr. Duggle, and gave us all more information of the alleged illicit activities of the Alderman. Last night, after the show, I shook Thane's hand, thanking him for the immense help he's been in cracking open these additional allegations. I applauded his bravery to speak up, and I gave him my friendship." By this point, the pain in his voice was now obvious to every listener. "Mr. Edward Thane is now dead."

"Though the authorities have officially stated there's no evidence of a connection between Thane's testimony here and his death so far, the case is still being looked into. The cause of death was a hit-and-run outside of his apartment on South Merrimac Avenue. It seems to me far too coincidental that on the same night Thane releases the information he knew, he gets killed in a quote-in-quote 'random accident.'"

Travis suddenly stopped speaking. The air was silent before the producers quickly placed an advertisement on. For the first time in quite some time, Lee Travis broke down into tears in the studio.

* * *

Judge Davenport looked sternly over his friend of many years, shaking his head as the moon behind him shone brightly.

"You shouldn't have done that, and you know better," he stated, his disappointment obvious.

"Duggle had Edward Thane killed," Lee replied angrily, banging his right hand on his friend's desk, "and you know damn well that's true."

"But saying such on your broadcast constitutes slander under state law-" Davenport began, but was cut off.

"I've been on air for 33 years now, Rudy," Lee said, his fury not having ebbed. "You know how many times I've been brought to court. I've always gotten by. I'll get through this one too, if Duggle decides to sue."

"He will," Davenport nodded. "Politicians are not used to being accused of crimes such as murder. Rigging votes and receiving pay-offs?" Davenport waved his hand dismissively. "That comes with the territory. Murder? That's a whole new can of worms, and you damn well know it."

"If I get sued, I get sued, and there's not much I can do about it now," Lee said, slightly calmer than he had been most of the day. "But it's clear that Edward's death was not an accident."

Davenport mournfully shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. That's for the police to find out. You cannot accuse public officials of crimes of this magnitude, though. It's unseemly."

Lee Travis sighed, feeling now more defeated than angry. "He shouldn't have died, Rudy."

"I know," his friend replied. "I know."

The two friends were silent, and shortly thereafter, Lee Travis left the office. He headed home.

* * *

In front of the body length mirror, Lee Travis stared at his reflection, tipping the fedora on his head. He then sighed.

_God, I'm getting too old for this_.

At 56, though, he knew that was far from true. While he only went out once a week or less, donning his secret identity, he still possessed the necessary prowess.

Fighting crime for almost three and a half decades did get old though. _Not to mention_, Crimson Avenger mused, _this getup looked much better back in the 70's._

Lee Travis eyed himself over one last time, readjusting his mask before exiting his domicile into the moderately chilly night.

* * *

Outside, a light sprinkling had begun, which fit the mood well, Lee Travis thought, as he eyed, with a sad gaze, Edward Thane's finance.

Leah Scott was just 22, and already, she had lost far more than any one person deserved to lose. She openly sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Leah," Crimson Avenger began, his voice tender. "You didn't deserve this. Edward didn't either."

She sniffed away some tears at this, but still, the crying continued.

"I know you've spoken to the police, but I'm investigating the matter myself. Edward lived – he had a life, and while I knew him not personally, there is no way worse to go then murder. Personally, I do see this as murder, though I cannot prove that yet. After tonight, I hope to be able to."

"I-I," she stammered, her voice hoarse, "don't know what to do. I told Eddy that he might be in danger if he went on that damn radio show. He just laughed me off and did it anyways. He said," Leah continued, wiping her wet cheeks angrily with her left hand, "he was doing the right thing."

Crimson Avenger looked out the window of the small apartment, to the dark, drizzling eve. He took a deep breath, and replied.

"I know Lee Travis." He turned back to her, and stared deep into her eyes. "I know Lee Travis. If he had thought Edward would have been in any danger from appearing on his show, he never would have asked."

She sniffed again. "I don't know Mr. Travis, but I heard his show last night. He seems like a very good man."

"I think he tries, but sometimes his demons shout down the better angels of his mind. I know he'll never forgive himself for Edward's death, but with all he can do, he will fight for justice and the truth. He'll make sure that those responsible pay." Crimson Avenger paused, and added, "I will too."

Leah said nothing more. She just pulled Crimson Avenger into her arms, and sobbed onto his black tie. He held her there for the following ten minutes in silence.

* * *

The _pitter-patter, pitter-patter_ of the still-falling drizzle was the sole sound discerned as the Crimson Avenger lightly stepped into the vacant office of Alderman Richard Duggle.

The building was both dark and mute, and more so, he had set off no alarms as he pushed the office window up. _Lucky as I am so far_, he pondered, as he began walking toward the dark oak desk, _I can't afford to count my blessings too soon._

The office was neatly organized. Nothing was out of place. No papers were where they shouldn't be. In fact, nothing was where it shouldn't be.

The meticulous nature of Duggle's office pestered Crimson Avenger greatly, though he wasn't surprised. He glanced at the door, and then sat down in Duggle's chair. Slowly, with meaning, he began going through the drawers, papers, personal effects, whatever caught his eye.

It wasn't until thirty minutes had passed that the first clue had popped up, in the form of an ordinary, small leather notepad. In it, various corporation names were listed, along with the amount, Crimson Avenger guessed, that each paid off to Duggle in the margins.

_Computers were too dangerous for this information_, he considered. _Duggle kept all his unsavory actions by hand_.

He tossed the notepad on the clean desk, and continued through the vast amount of paperwork contained in the desk drawers, looking for any additional incriminating or suspicious artifacts.

It was another twenty minutes until he picked up a yellow Post-It note, with the phrase _Call Clyde at Match_ written on it. And based on the various papers he'd seen that night, Crimson Avenger noted one additional fact about the small piece of paper – it wasn't in Duggle's handwriting.

He looked through the rest of the desk, finding little more of interest aside from lewd magazines in the bottom-most drawer which appeared far more used than Crimson Avenger would have preferred. These, he placed on the floor, spread out, sincerely hoping Mr. Duggle wasn't the first person to walk into the office the following morning.

Grabbing both the notepad and Post-It note, he, the same way he entered, left the building. Outside, using the wall as a surface on which to write, he scribed a quick letter to the Chicago police department.

As he signed it, he caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of his eye, and noted a small gang, it appeared, moving his way.

Without sparing them a second glance, he walked away, toward the nearest police station to drop off the Alderman's notepad and his own letter. The Post-It note, he would keep, as the identity of the man named Clyde intrigued him.

"He's the one who killed Edward," he muttered to himself, walking quickly down the mostly-deserted street. "I'll find you, Clyde. You just don't know it yet."

* * *

_Call Clyde at Match_

That's all he had. Crimson Avenger stood still in the hushed gloom of an empty alleyway, running the short note over and over in his mind. Almost 24 hours had passed, and already, Lee Travis' day had been busy enough. He wouldn't go home, though, until he made progress on catching Thane's actual killer. Duggle, as luck had it, was behind bars already.

_Clyde isn't that common a name_, he pondered. _Get someone in the police department to do a quick search, and_-

"Nah, that would take too long," he said aloud, and released a long sigh. _Maybe if I can find out what 'Match' is, I can_-

A voice, as surprising itself as the source, suddenly spoke.

"Clyde Calkins," Batman said, "Lake Meadows Apartments, Room 343."

Crimson Avenger said nothing, looking over the Dark Detective with stern eyes.

"Trust me, he's there. He already received money from Duggle, but he's not going anywhere," Batman said, his tone grim. "Can't say he won't try to run at some point tomorrow. Tonight, though, he's all yours."

Finding his voice, Crimson Avenger adjusted his fedora once more, and replied, "Didn't know you ever left Gotham."

"When necessary," Batman simply said, looking over the older man.

"And you know who I am," Crimson Avenger replied, honestly not surprised in the least.

"Lee Travis. 56. Life-long resident of Chicago. Radio host for three and a half decades. Tackles topics others can't, or won't," he recited. "Earlier tonight, you released a portion of the documents you found at Duggle's office linking him to a variety of crimes." Batman stood silent for a few seconds, then added, "I admire your work."

A small grin appeared on Crimson Avenger's face, but fell quickly. "Likewise. Other than supplying me with the identity of my perp, though, what are you doing in Chicago?"

"After the Thanagarian Invasion three weeks ago, Superman proposed we increase our ranks to include many more heroes, in order to better coordinate our actions across the globe, and more so, to provide Earth with a proper source of protection in case of another invasion."

"Is that likely," Crimson Avenger, half-jokingly.

"Wouldn't know," Batman replied, "but the point is, I am here to offer you a place in the League."

"And you wouldn't mind me spotlighting your detective shtick?"

Without so much as a small grin, Batman replied, "My costume's more menacing."

At this, Crimson Avenger broke out in a genuinely appreciative smile. "I'll be honored to join the League, should you honestly feel I'm up for the challenge."

"You've been fighting crime in Chicago and neighboring communities for even longer than you've been on the radio. Our trust is well-placed."

Crimson Avenged nodded. "I am guessing the Watchtower is being rebuilt?"

"Already close to complete, from my understanding," Batman replied. "You'll have a room up there, should you choose to use it."

"And I'll be later informed of when I should expect to be there?"

Batman nodded. "We still have a few others to recruit. Some have been difficult to track."

"Difficult for the Batman to track? Be still my beating heart."

"Don't think we're the only ones who know detective skills and how to hide from public eye," Batman replied rather sorely. "You'd be mistaken."

Crimson Avenger held out his hand to the Dark Detective, and he took it. "Lake Meadows Apartments, Room 343, yes?"

"Yes. Give Calkins hell for Thane. He didn't deserve that."

"No, he didn't," Crimson Avenger replied, shaking his head sadly. "I appreciate you stopping by."

"Of course. Good luck," Batman said, a tone of finality in his voice. Seconds later, he had disappeared into the darkness.

Crimson Avenger looked upward, past the over-towering structures, to the dusky sky.

"I wish I could see the stars," he muttered to himself, and a chill ran down his back. "I wish I could see the stars."

* * *

Ricky Sheldon was having one of the most bizarre days of his life.

Being an errand boy for a rather large mob boss, though, was conducive to bizarre days, so Ricky took it in stride. His job for the day was simple enough: pick up two individuals in his van, drive them to a bank in Elmhurst, and then take them to a safe house in Chicago after the robbery. All-in-all, the job was expected to be done with by approximately 2:00 pm.

It was now nearing 3:30 pm, and the squabbling hadn't subsided yet.

"I am not comfortable wearing my costume for the job," the man in the multi-colored, polka dot uniform insisted for what had to be the fifth time that day. "I told you, authorities still think I'm in Metropolis. If I'm seen here, I'm as good as caught."

The other one, dressed in an asbestos suit (Heatwave, Ricky believed), groaned loudly, and not for the first time. "So what if the authorities know you're not in Metropolis," he asked impatiently. "What damn difference does it make?"

"I'm not being looked for here," the mysterious man replied, his voice obviously more on edge than Heatwaves'. "It gives me the element of surprise, ya know, having the cops completely at a loss about where you are."

"I don't mean to burst your bubble, Spectro," Heatwave said, in a rather unkind tone, "but if you're actively being pursued in Metropolis, I'll eat my suit."

"Hey," Spectro heatedly replied, "I stole some secret plans from the military base there. They take that type of stuff seriously."

"Ohh," Heatwave mockingly proclaimed, "we got a badass over here." Eying his companion with distaste, he added, "You're already in costume, so I don't see the big problem with running in and pulling the job."

Ricky, whom under normal circumstances would be afraid to butt into a conversation between superiors, chimed in, rather bored at the moment. "Yeah, I don't see the problem either."

"Shut up," they both roared, and the argument continued. Ricky put his head down, thinking, _I can't believe I'm working with such imbeciles. If I had more than a pistol_, he considered, looking across the street wistfully at the bank, _I'd rob the place myself._

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man clearly walking up to the parked van. While Ricky had never seen this man before in his life, he could tell he meant business.

The young man looked over his shoulders to the two, utterly hopeless villains, and then returned his gaze to the older man walking directly toward him. Ricky didn't know if this was a hit or not, but his will to live got the better of him, and without so much as a warning, he jumped out of his van and bolted down the street.

"-the worst person I've ever teamed up w-." Heatwave stopped mid-sentence, looking at the now-absent front seat. "What the hell was that," he inquired curiously, turning back to Doctor Spectro, the former agitation having ebbed from his voice.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go," he replied in a serious tone.

Heatwave looked at his companion for a brief second then burst out laughing, Spectro joining in immediately afterwards.

"I've been wanting to use that line for the longest time," Doctor Spectro explained, pleased the bickering, for now, had ceased. "Ever since I've seen that movie-"

"Excuse me," a new voice called out, causing both of them to stop mid-laugh, "but if you have a second, I'd like to speak to you two."

The man, whom distinctly wore a monocle, of all things, was sitting in Ricky's vacated seat, peering back at them. A smile, which grew ever wider as he explained his plans for the Justice League, struck them both as distinctive also.

Minutes later, Heatwave and Doctor Spectro accepted Monocle's offer without question.


	6. Recruitment Part V

**Author's Note:**

**This is the fifth part of my Recruitment storyline.**

**Let me know how you felt, or if you had any questions, via either personal message or review. Also, if you spot any errors, please let me know.**

**The two poems partially recited are both written by Scottish poet Robert Burns. They are, in order, "For a' That and a' That" and "To a Mouse" - different variations exist, I'm sure, but to my knowledge, I used the most common ones.**

**I also want to say that the town of Marmaduke, Arkansas, suffered a devastating blow when a tornado destroyed portions of the town on April 2, 2006. This story takes place around mid-July 2002, so that wasn't addressed at all in the story. No one died due to this tornado, though infrastructure was badly damaged, and around fifty individuals were injured. I mean no disrespect to the people of this town with this chapter, as they've had enough to deal with in recent times.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I don't own the rights to DC or to Robert Burns' poetry.**

* * *

Two things were certain to happen when Cynthia entered a new town. First, law enforcement would inevitably take notice of the flamboyant, young woman, and ask her to leave. Second, and just as frequently, she would refuse to listen.

Against the early, dusky atmosphere, as soon as she saw the sign welcoming her to town, Cynthia smiled. Marmaduke, Arkansas, a small town, with a population probably just around a thousand people, she thought, seemed like the perfect place to settle down for a week or two, if not longer. _That is, if the police don't chase me out first_, she glumly considered.

Just after passing the high school, it's as though her thoughts took a life of their own, for nonchalantly coming down the street was a dusty police cruiser, obviously making a beeline toward her.

Cynthia's grin dissipated. _Wow, they don't waste any time here_, she considered, already annoyed. She knew exactly how this conversation was going to play out, and while she was used to it, it got her heated every time. She pointedly readjusted the many bracelets on her right wrist, giving off the distinct aura of being overly bored. The car then pulled up beside her, and the officer inside removed his tinted sunglasses.

"Good morning, ma'am," came the southern drawl of the officer, leering at her suspiciously from the comforts of his cruiser. "We have a local ordinance against beggars or homeless taking refuge on city property, so-"

"I'm not a beggar," Cynthia said with a growl. "I'm just passing on through, you know?"

"For God's sake," the officer replied quickly in agitation, "you're not even wearing shoes. Even if you're not a beggar, I know a trouble-maker when I see one. A young woman in a green dress, no shoes, and fifty bracelets walks into my town - believe me, I smell trouble."

"Yeah, and I smell bullsh-"

"You've got a mouth on you, young lady," the officer cut in, clearly unamused. "Listen, I'mma circle around the high school here, and if you're out of sight, then you're out of mind. If you're still standing here, though," he warned, shaking his head at her, "then I'm not afraid to tell you you'll be in a sorry state once you leave Marmaduke."

_Oh, scary_, the young woman thought, but bit down her tongue before she could say it aloud. While she could easily escape from a cell should she need to, the young woman was tired and hungry. Neither of those problems were likely to improve whilst sitting in jail.

Sighing, she replied, her tone bored, "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Eying her one last time, he shook his head again and slowly drove away. True to his word, he turned at the high school. Cynthia flipped off the disappearing cruiser, not much caring if he saw, and began walking across the street in front of here.

She stopped when she saw a young man grinning back at her twenty feet off. Annoyed, she said, her voice full of sass, "Can I help you?"

The young man shook his head, brushing his brown hair from his eyes. "Naw, thanks though," he replied. "Looks like I can help you out, though."

Confused, and more than a bit irritated, she put her hands up in annoyance. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you, but you should walk with me back ta my house. Sheriff Royd ain't lying, ma'am. He'll haul your ass in if you ain't outta here when he gets back."

Cynthia rolled her eyes, though began walking toward the stranger. "Fine. Let's go."

"Sure thang," he replied, and they both walked across the expansive street to a clear field. "I live right on West Franklin Street," he began, "so we can just cut through here." Cynthia remained silent at this, so the man took his cue and continued speaking. "I'm Willie. Listen, Royd's not a nice guy, and he don't take too well to strangers. Small-town mentality and all that."

"More like cop-mentality really," Cynthia muttered. "Sorry if I got snarky with you. I'm Cynthia," she added, forcing a smile at the young man, "and I've been on the road for almost a day, and first thing that happens when I come into town is a cop biting my head off. I'm tired of it."

"Where you come from, darlin'," Willie asked, his face showing legitimate concern, which Cynthia rarely saw.

"Well, I walked here from Knobel, and-"

"Knobel," Willie repeated in surprise. "Geez, girl, that's like a ten-hour walk."

"I think it was shorter," Cynthia said as she shrugged. "But I didn't have any food before I left, and I'm a sorta starved," she added, her voice far more pouty than she would have preferred. "When I'm hungry, I can get irritable, and hence, here we are."

Willie nodded. "What's a girl like you trekking across Arkansas on foot for, though? You homeless or something," he asked, looking at her disheveled dress and absence of shoes.

Cynthia sighed at this question, almost as tired of it as she was the authorities' attitude toward her. "Yeah, I guess you could say I am, though it's by choice. I've been doing this for years."

"I reckon you're a girl who can take care of herself," Willie said.

Unsure as to whether or not that was a question, Cynthia acted like it was. "I can, yeah. Haven't had any trouble in almost six months now, and that was in Manhattan, Kansas. It's okay, though," she explained with a grin, "those guys might be able to have children if they're lucky."

Willie smiled at this also. "You wanna hang around at my place for a bit 'fore you move on? It's me and a friend, but we'd be happy to have you."

"Sure, that'd be great," Cynthia replied swiftly. "Got an extra room or am I sleeping on the couch?"

"Don't you worry," he said, pleased with her enthusiasm, "we have space. It's my parents' old place, and they gave it to me when they left the state. My buddy, Zane, is there 'cause he's got no other place to go when college is outta session. He helps keep things tidy when he can, and just like that, he's got a house to live in."

"Great deal," Cynthia replied. "You in school too?"

"Nah, not me," Willie said with a shake of his head. "I dropped outta high school and never got back to it. I can fix up trucks real nice, though, so hell, it doesn't matter. Yourself?"

Cynthia chuckled. "I've never been in school, at least I don't think. If I was, it was too long ago to remember. Everything I've learned, I learned on the streets."

He looked over her curiously at this remark. "I have to say, that's a mighty strange way to live life."

Again, Cynthia shrugged. "Different strokes for different folks, I guess."

Willie nodded in agreement, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

_If Zane gets a free room for keeping the place tidy_, Cynthia considered when walking into the medium-sized home, _then Willie is really getting screwed on this deal_.

Willie grabbed a few empty pizza boxes off the far end of the couch, and patted the cushion. "Honestly, me and Zane are pretty much the only folks who come in here," he said, blushing ever-so slightly. "It's not often we get any guests."

"Hey, do I look like a girl who cares," Cynthia replied, with a smile. She sat down, crossing her legs beneath her dress, and laying her large purse on the right side of her. "What ya got in the way of something to eat, if I can ask without sounding super rude?"

"Oh, I was going to make a few ham sandwiches. That fine with you," Willie asked, heading toward what appeared to be the kitchen.

"Yep," Cynthia shouted in reply, not overly impressed with ham, but at the same time, at the moment she'd likely consume anything resembling food, and maybe a few things that didn't.

She yawned, and began peering over the room. It was dim, quite messy, and rather lived in. _Still_, she thought, looking to the VHS shelf, _I can crash here for a few. Willie seems nice enough anyways, and I can't imagine Zane'd be against having company._

Still rotating her head slowly, she did a double take when she spotted, on a shelf near the modest VHS collection, a small grouping of bongs and pipes, of varying quality. Cynthia chuckled under her breath.

_Guess I really did come to the right place._

Seconds later, Willie reentered the room, passing her a small plate and a glass of water. His eyes went from hers to the spot she was staring at, and again blushed.

"We don't really use those," he said quickly. "They're-"

"Why have them if you don't use them," she replied with a smirk. Willie stood above her, looking nervous, which caused Cynthia to giggle. "It's fine, Willie. I don't care. Toke it up all you want. I'm not a judgmental person."

Appearing noticeably less anxious, he sat down in a folding chair across from her, an end table between the two of them.

"You ever-" Willie began cautiously.

"I'm no saint," Cynthia replied with a smile. "I'd have some on me myself if it wasn't for the fact police are always on my butt." She then took a bite of her sandwich, amused greatly at what appeared to be an inner struggle within her new friend.

"Willie, if you want to ask if I wanna get high, just ask."

He chuckled at this, and cleared his throat. "Um, do you wanna toke up?"

She nodded, and they did. Needless to say, within the following thirty minutes, additional sandwiches were made and consumed, not to mention a bag of chips and fourth a tub of mint ice cream.

* * *

Zane didn't return until half past two, and he snickered at the sight of both the new girl and Willie stoned out of their minds, groggily talking to each other. A wide smile on his face, he shouted out, "Hey there, what's up?"

Both jumped, and Willie began cussing him out. Zane waved him off and plopped next down to the new girl, who was looking curiously at him, at the same time still giggling at Willie.

"Nice to meet you, miss," he said, holding his hand out. "I see you got some of the good stuff."

Unbeknownst to Zane, Willie shot him a glare and blushed.

"I'm Cynthia," she replied, oblivious to Willie's embarrassment. "Willie said I could crash here for a few days. That cool with you?"

"Totally," Zane answered. "Bro, mind passing that bong to me," he called out. "And the lighter. It looks like I have some catching up to do." He grinned at Cynthia, and she grinned back.

* * *

She was grinning still when she stood up hours later, yawning and stretching her arms out. Her eyelids felt heavy, yet managed to blink them a few times. _Nope_, she managed to think, _room's still dim as hell_.

Cynthia let out a sigh. Looking outside, she saw it was now dark. How late it was, she had no idea. _But that doesn't matter, I guess._

She walked into the small kitchen, and leaned against the counter, straightening out her now-rumpled dress. Cynthia sighed again.

_This place isn't bad at all_, she thought, running both hands through her messy hair. _But it's still not right. It's not-_

She shook her head, confused. _It's not what? Where was I going with that?_ But Cynthia didn't know. Week after week, town after town, she's felt different. As though something's missing. She had no idea what, though, and that was driving her crazy.

_Something's wrong._ Vague as hell, she realized, but the thought remained with her. _Something's wrong._

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the living room, and the startled sounds of her two friends forcefully waking up.

"Man, what's going on," Willie asked, his voice drowning in confusion.

"Wade, Jerry, take one each and throw them into the car. Let's move it," shouted a voice, vaguely familiar, and full of authority.

"Let's go, guys," another voice said, and risking it, Cynthia peered into the room.

Three police officers, among them the officer from earlier, Sheriff Royd if she remembered correctly, were standing over Willie and Zane. One of the officers was pulling both to their feet.

"What the hell's going on," Willie repeated, while Zane was petrified at this encroachment.

"You two are coming to the station," Royd replied, his voice urgent. "Get them to the cars. Now!"

The two other officers marched the younger men out of the room, leaving Royd behind. He glanced around the room, and, noting the bong on the coffee table, muttered, "Worthless potheads."

Sheriff Royd sighed, shook his head, and left the house.

Cynthia quickly crept into the living room, and peaked out of the doorframe.

"Crap," she muttered, observing the two cruisers speed away into the dim, star-lit night. _What the hell is going on_, she thought furiously, clenching her fists. _They were with me the whole time. What the hell could they have done?_ A more important fact came to mind, which made the situation even more worrisome. _That wasn't a proper arrest at all. Something's wrong._

All of the sudden, she camouflaged herself, as per her powers, and stepped outside. Cynthia began running in the direction the two cruisers disappeared in. Her logic at this point was rather rudimentary, though she thought it'd work: Marmaduke was not that big, and sooner or later, she'd locate the police station without too much hassle. _It shouldn't really be that hard to find_.

_At least, I hope not._

With that in mind, Cynthia continued jogging, her rough feet pounding on the pavement with a steady _thud-thud-thud_. She was relieved to see, after only five minutes, a small building to her immediate right. While the building itself was admittedly unremarkable, the two police cruisers parked in the adjacent parking lot were of a deep interest to her.

Seconds later, she phased through the wall, dab-smack into a small, dingy closet. Trying to re-situate a broom out of her way, Cynthia heard the voices of the officers' creep into the cramped space and stood completely still.

"-know about this," a voice said, clearly shaken. "I mean, people'll find out about it. We might be able to cover our asses for a few weeks or months, but after that-"

"We'll have time to cover our tracks just fine, and no one, but no one, will be any the wiser," a gruff voice cut in, the voice of Sheriff Royd cut in.

"Yeah, ya idiot," a third voice chimed in. "We're police – ain't nobody suspecting us of anything."

"We shouldn't be coverin' for your brother, Al. It just ain't right," the anxious voice complained.

"Ya know, damn it, I can't go 'gainst my family. I won't do it. My brother's an idiot, yersiree, and he's one helluva a racist, that's true, and worse, he's one mean drunk. I ain't denying that, an' you both know that's all true. He's my kith and kin, though, fellas, and I won't turn on him," yelled Royd passionately.

A collective sigh was the response, and after a few seconds, the anxious voice spoke again.

"I get all that, Al, I really do. You know I love you and Mike. But framing two kids 'cause your brother goes and kills a nice couple just 'cause the man's black and she's white? Being drunk don't excuse that, Al. That's not right."

"You're either with us or you're not, Jerry," the third voice threatened. "I'd soon as take Dixie down than I'd turn on a friend. Where do your loyalties lie?"

Silence penetrated the room for close to thirty seconds before a defeated voice replied, "So how do we do this?"

A sound of one of the officers clapping the other on the back came immediately afterward. "This here's the official story, Jerry. We find Jane and Darius in their home. We go out hunting for a suspect. We hear a ruckus over in them there boy's house. We arrest them, and once they reach the jail cell, they both bum rush us. And like that, we got no choice butta shoot."

Cynthia's eyes widening at this. Already formulating a plan of action, the next words jarred her immensely.

"This is my mess, and my brother's mess," Sheriff Royd admitted. "I'll shoot the two boys. Ya'll don't need to see that. Just help me move the bodies once it's done, 'kay?"

No reply was giving, but Royd must have gotten a confirmation, as she heard him step away from the closet, leaving the two others behind.

_He's doing it right now_, she screamed in her mind, and without further thought, phased through the door.

Most literally, the two officers didn't see what was coming.

One second, Jerry was talking to his friend, and the next, he saw his friend collapse and a sort of moving, shimmering shape pounce on him. Jerry, never much a brave individual to begin with, took off.

Cynthia watched in amazement as the young officer bolted out the door, without even trying to save his friend or yell for Sheriff Royd. She smiled at this development.

_My job got a whole lot easier._

She put her bare foot against the neck of the downed officer, and though he struggled, Cynthia kept the pressure on him, and after a minute, he was unconscious. Assuming that the officer who ran was now out of the picture, only one remained.

Cynthia quickly phased through a wall in front of her, her abilities allowing her to blend into the surrounding colors as so the sheriff wouldn't become alerted to her presence.

And she wound up where she was needed.

"I'm sorry, boys, I really am. Make peace with God now," Sheriff Royd calmly said, staring at the two young men cowering on the floor of the jail cell.

"We didn't do anything," Zane yelled, totally freaked out (_and rightly so_, Cynthia thought).

The sheriff shook his head slowly. "Life isn't fair, boys." He began raising his firearm.

"No, it's not," Cynthia said aloud, and with her right foot, jabbed the sheriff in the back on his left knee. He shouted in pain and landed hard on his side, his gun flying from his hands.

She landed her knee on the sheriff's neck, pleased to hear him struggle for breath. She put more pressure on him, and slowly allowed the illusion of her replicating form to fall. From both Zane and Willie in the cells, Cynthia heard gasps of relief.

Cynthia stared into the eyes of the sheriff, who was yanking hard at her green dress, trying to get some type of foothold. Some way out of the predicament he was in. He was unsuccessful.

"Sheriff Royd, you were right about one thing," she said, her voice steel. "I guess I am a bit of a trouble-maker."

He fell unconscious seconds later. Cynthia kept the pressure on a few additional moments, then stood up, facing the two boys in the cell.

"Wanna head back to your place," she asked, a grin reforming. "I think you still had some chips left."

* * *

There were tears in Cynthia's eyes as she walked away from Marmaduke the next morning. Though she was there for only just over a day, she felt something she'd not felt in a long time. The thing she was missing, and had been for as long as she's been alive. The feeling of family. Her parting words to both Willie and Zane, being simply, "Live your life and soak it in," made it all the more difficult to leave town. But as it's her nature, she did.

And despite the pang in her heart, she didn't look back.

Cradling her purse in her arms, Cynthia walked east-bound for almost a day before J'onn appeared in front of her.

At first, she jumped back, scared. As soon as she saw who it was, though, she smiled, though the pang in her heart told her she hadn't fully recovered yet from her realization and loss.

"Hello," J'onn stated, looking at the young woman curiously. "You're awfully hard to find, Gypsy."

"Hey, it's how I live," she flippantly replied. "I am surprised you've heard of me, though."

"Rumors," J'onn replied. "Honestly, there were some among my ranks who doubted your existence. But stories from 32 different states about a chameleon girl does not strike me as coincidence."

Cynthia nodded. "Why were you searching for me?"

"To offer you a position in the Justice League. Compared to traveling the country, being stuck up in the Watchtower may not sound appealing, but we-"

"I'll join," Cynthia replied quickly, her head swimming, and her heart swooning.

J'onn stared at Cynthia, and, as best he could, mustered a smile. "I am happy you accepted. You're a lone wolf, even more so than Batman. We were afraid you'd decline."

"I think," Cynthia began, and gulped before continuing, feeling a blush appear on her cheeks, "you're what I need. Stability. Friends I can rely on. A place to call home."

"A family," J'onn stated. Cynthia, unlike her in so many ways, being the tough girl that she was, nodded, and broke into tears.

"Yes, a family," she replied, her voice wet.

J'onn then hugged her. A strong hug. A hug he's not given since the death of his wife and two children. A hug that showed Cynthia she did now have a family, and forever more would.

* * *

From her tiny, yet overly expensive, loft in Boston, Siobhan looked out of the windows furiously. She clenched her fists, and just as she was about to dial the number again, a knock on her door caused her to jump.

Expecting no one, she walked over slowly. _The police_, Siobhan considered incredulously. _Did that bastard sell me out?_

She opened the door, mentally preparing for the worst. What she got, however, confused her more so.

A distinguished mustache, peppered hair. A monocle. Siobhan stared at this gentlemanly individual for a few seconds before speaking.

"Ah beg yuir pardon, but ah dinnae ken who ye are."

He held out his hand to her, replying, "Jonathan Cheval, my dear girl."

Siobhan took it, perplexity still obvious on her face. "Ah'm sorry, but ah still dinnae-"

"You can call me Monocle, if you so wish," the man replied, smiling. "I've come to make you an offer, one better than you'd get out of working with the Puzzler."

It clicked, and Siobhan nodded. "He dinnae show up this morning. Ah've been sitting here, worried nae guid would come of it."

She stood back, and let the man walk into her loft. Shutting the door behind him, Siobhan looked curiously at the man.

"Yes," Monocle replied, "I know about your trouble. Supposed to work together to rob a bank with the Puzzler. Tut-tut, now that's not screaming creativity."

"Do ye ken what happened to that bloody-"

"I detained him not more than an hour ago," he replied, sighing. "It appeared he had no intention to work with you, and had made a deal to set you up for the Boston Police Department, as a joint-operation with Interpol. You are wanted by Interpol, you know."

Siobhan's anger ebbed, and she groaned. "That glaikit wee-"

"But that's behind you now," Monocle cut in, his tone reassuring. "I went to Puzzler to let him in on a plan of mine, but when I found out what he was doing to you, I took care of him. It's you I came to see, dear girl, and your future I came to discuss."

"Let's sit down then," Siobhan replied. "What kin ye offer me?"

Monocle followed suit and sat across from her. "I've been getting a little group together. Our purpose, to wipe out the Justice League while they're still crippled."

"Yer bum's oot the windae," Siobhan said simply. "It cannae be done."

"Well, dear, I think it can. I've brought together a tough bunch of people, and together, I do feel it realistic to believe we can properly end the overhanging threat of the Justice League. They're down one number, and they've not fully recuperated yet from that invasion three weeks ago. Morally and physically, they're beat. In a few more weeks, they won't be. We have to strike soon. Are you interested?"

"Ah dinnae ken," she replied honestly. "Ye really think it could be done?"

"You know Robert Burns, yes," Monocle inquired.

Siobhan nodded. "Ah do. Why?"

"What tho' on hamely fare we dine," Monocle recited, "wear hoddin-gray, an' a' that; gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine." He paused, smiling at Siobhan. "I think it's time to give the knaves their wine, don't you think?"

At this, the younger woman smiled. "I do."

As they were walking from her Boston loft, Monocle smiled as Siobhan locked the door behind him. Inside his head, he recited another Burns' poem, this one infinitely more relevant than the one before. And as he was, his smile grew even more.

_But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane_

_In proving foresight may be vain_

_The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men_

_Gang aft agley_

_An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain_

_For promis'd joy!_


	7. Recruitment Part VI

**Author's Note:**

**This is the final installment of Recruitment, though of course, events that happened here can later shape how the story continues. In particular, one character will be examined more fully later on. The next chapter, which will introduce many additional heroes I have not yet touched on, will be up at some point in the future.**

**As said, I do have the next 20 or so chapters planned out, although I will always accept suggestions or ideas of characters you might want to see.**

**Just to inform you, Clovis City Limits has since closed their doors, but at the time this chapter takes place, the establishment was open. Also, the country song was written by me, and while the whole of it may seem both gratuitous and corny, I kept it in (I was originally going to shorten the scene) because those lyrics do reflect Greg Sanders' views on his life and childhood. And I agree, I will not seek out a career in song-writing.**

**If you so desire, leave a review or comment if you see a mistake. I do like reviews, of course, but do with this as you will.**

**I do hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**I do not own any of these characters, nor do I possess the rights.**

* * *

One Month Ago

In a cluttered apartment, Question again looked over his hand-written notes obsessively.

"Won't be easy. Can be done," he muttered to himself, flipping over the pages slowly, formulating the scenario in his head.

"For the best."

* * *

Now

On the outskirts of Clovis, New Mexico, in the appropriately-named bar Clovis City Limits, Greg Sanders pulled himself off of the barstool he'd been occupying for the past thirty minutes and onto the cheaply-made makeshift stage. While a few of the bars' patronage were paying him attention, most were off in their own, drunken (or at least tipsy) worlds. It's only when he pulled the microphone toward him and lightly coughed that everyone was looking at the man.

"Howdy, partners," he began, pulling the chair behind him forward, and sat down, the microphone still in hand, "I'm Greg Sanders, but my fans call me the Travelling Troubadour, likely 'cause I've been travelling the south and west, playing shows for the better part of 15 years now. This fine establishment heard I was passing through town, and asked if I wanted to play. Hell, even without the free tab, I woulda done it."

At this, the crowd laughed appreciatively, and looked expectantly at the nearing-40 year old man. Greg yanked his guitar up onto his lap. "I was out at Phoenix a week ago, and I'm making my way back to Texas. Or Arkansas. Hell, I've only been to Nashville once in the last five years, so I may try to get there. I admit it, I'm a wanderer," Greg insisted, his eyes locking with the audience, "and while I wouldn't have it any other way, I won't forget where my roots are. That's what this here song is about."

With that, Greg began lightly strumming his guitar, and tilted his hat down, the only thing now in his vision was the microphone and dusty floor. He strummed for a few seconds, then sang.

_The place where I grew up didn't have any paved roads_

_It didn't have no super-mall, but we kids were never bored_

_Just throw us a ball and fifteen bats, you'd never hear us complain_

_And if someone said they wanted to leave, we'd joke they were insane_

_No, the times weren't always good there, we still had some things to fear_

_Like the time that Jody's father struck his mother on her ear_

_And even after three whole months, she still couldn't hear_

_But it's clear_

_Where I come from, we haven't had a murder yet_

_Hunting season, shooting deer and game is the closest you would get_

_Where I come from, old-timers still get our respect_

_And if you ever dare insult the troops, then you're not welcome back_

_It's a place that I have always loved, forevermore and then some_

_My life and home, where I'm from_

_If you walk down by the schoolyard, you'll notice a white oak tree_

_Where I laid down next to Mary back in 1983_

_It was Prom Night, in our senior year, she was such a gorgeous gal_

_And I had never been as happy as I'd been pressing her against the wall_

_But the same night I laid next to her upon the dry and brittle grass_

_One of my best friends got crazy drunk and died in a car crash_

_Oh, I'll not forget the tears that streamed down his poor mother's face_

_My friend Malcom, gone without a trace_

_I still can't help but to love this place_

_Where I come from, the word 'family' still means a lot_

_And the importance of faith and church has not been forgot_

_Where I come from, kids are still playing by the stream_

_Tossing rocks at fish and I sometimes wish it was as good as it seemed_

_I left so many friends there when I ran away that spring_

_It's so hard to comprehend the joy I feel when one of those friends ring_

_When I think about my childhood there, and the man I have become_

_I know I'll never forget, it's impossible to forget_

_Where I come from_

Before he had even finished the last word, the roar of applause had already began. Greg smiled at this, then spoke, "Clovis, that's the best sound I've heard all night. But my home's more'n just where I'm from," he added, the smile that formerly adorned his face now gone, "it's where I've been. America's been my home since the day I was born, and for the most part, it's a pretty damned safe place to live, 'specially for us folks out in the country."

The murmur of agreement followed this, and Greg carried on. "A month ago, though, we were attacked by aliens. Real-life aliens, swooping down on us and imposing new laws. Sure, they were eventually dealt with, but for the first time in a long time, some of us folk felt powerless. Yeah, we had our guns, but you try to shoot one of 'em suckers? You'd have better luck tryin' to shoot down the International Space Station. I reckon that's the scariest thing that happened to us since we lost our boys last September. We got mighty blue devils both times. This is a slower tune, but it's an important one."

And again, Greg strummed his guitar, and began to sing. The crowd, drunk or not, loved it.

* * *

In a dim, desolate abandoned factory, a small group was forming a circle, composed of Angle Man, Heatwave and Bloodsport. Most of them had been there weeks now, and in the boredom, they do one of the few things they can – they chat.

"That Silver Banshee sure has a stick up her butt," Bloodsport stated, glancing over to where her room was located, hoping she couldn't hear. "What's up with her?"

"I wouldn't be too concerned," Angle Man replied, also looking in the same direction. "Maybe it's the Scottish in her? Either way, you saw what she can do yesterday. She can discombobulate half the League with that scream, and just like that, our job's a hell of a lot easier."

"What in the name of God does discombobulate mean," Heatwave asked, quite confused. "You just made that word up, didn't you?"

Bloodsport chuckled heavily at this while Angle Man shook his head in shame. "I don't even know how to reply without sounding insulting."

Heatwave rolled his eyes, while Bloodsport was still guffawing. "Seriously, I've never heard that word before in my life. You can't blame me for that."

"Doctor Spectro will get a kick out of this one," Bloodsport teased.

"You tell him, and you'll taste my fury," Heatwave threatened. A few seconds of silence passed, and the three of them laughed once more.

"Anyways," Angle Man said once the laughter died down, "any idea who Monocle's picking up today?"

Bloodsport and Heatwave shook their heads. Angle Man sighed.

"Well, he said it'd be the last member anyways," Angle Man continued, scratching his head. "So that's, what, seven of us, counting Monocle?"

"I think you're missing one. Psycho-Pirate, maybe," Bloodsport offered.

Heatwave and Angle Man groaned.

"You're right," Bloodsport replied mournfully, "maybe it's best if we did forget him."

The sound of a car pulling up caused the three of them to turn their heads to the entrance.

"Guess it's time to see the new guy," Angle Man said.

"The final piece of the puzzle," Heatwave added, ignoring the looks from his two teammates. "And then it's time to kick the Justice League's ass."

"Hear hear," Bloodsport replied, a grin on his lips.

* * *

Greg knocked his knuckles on the wooden bar. "I'd like another cowboy cocktail over her, ma'am," he said, smiling at the young bartender. "Straight whiskey, if you're not familiar with the term."

"Coming right up," she replied, looking guiltily at him. "You know, you have a really good voice, honey."

"Aw shucks," Greg replied bashfully. "Thanks, darling'."

At that moment, a woman ran into the bar, covering her bare breasts with her arms and a copious amount of tears streaming down her face. One look at her short skirt, dyed hair, faded jewelry and fishnet stockings made clear one thing: She was a prostitute.

"Please, help me," she moaned, tightening her grip on her sides, acutely aware many there were far more interested in seeing skin then listening to her. "I've been raped."

The room erupted into laughter, and beneath the bar, Greg Sanders tightened his fists.

"Ain't no one can rape a hooker, darlin'," a particularly boisterous man called out. "Pretty sure it's in them lawbooks. You're s.o.l."

The rest of the room, save the bartender and Greg, hooted at this.

"Yeah miss," another called out, "but maybe we'll think about helping you out if you move those arms of yours outta the way."

Defeated, tearful, and torn down, the young woman quickly scurried out of the bar without another whimper.

With a disdainful look at the crowd he just sang to, entertained for an hour and a half, Greg grabbed his hat off the bar and followed. Fury was in his eyes, and death etched in his face.

* * *

"So, who's that," Angle Man said, unimpressed. "Golden Boy?"

"Nah," Bloodsport replied, shaking his head. "Name's Goldface. I've seen him on TV a few times. Fought Green Lantern once."

Heatwave nodded approvingly. "Looks like a pretty serious customer."

The three of them were watching Monocle give the grand tour to the newest, and last, team member. Goldface seemed rather unenthusiastic about their headquarters, but for the most part, kept his face straight. While none of them could hear the conversation, they all heard it before. How Monocle could give the same speech time and time again without cracking amused them. But now, it was over, and Goldface spotted the small group. Angle Man waved his hand, as if saying 'We're dying to meet you.'

The new arrival made his way to the small circle, looking around at all of them. Angle Man held out his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you. As I'm sure you're aware, you're the last member of this Anti-Justice League Squad."

As Goldface took his hand, Heatwave replied in protest, "God, that name's flippin' awful. Hell, Injustice Gang wasn't poetic or nothing, but it beats the hell out of 'Anti-Justice League Squad.'"

Angle Man scowled at Heatwave, but before he could reply, Bloodsport cut in. "Yo, let the new guy talk. How ya doin', man?"

"I am just fine," Goldface replied, somewhat stiffly. "But I am rather bored. The whole ride over, Monocle was yapping and yapping. I'm not much of a talker myself."

"Then for your own sake and sanity," Bloodsport said with urgency, "avoid Psycho-Pirate. He'll drive you cuckoo." At this, Angle Man and Heatwave nodded in agreement.

"To be fair to this man," Goldface replied, his tone conciliatory, "his codename is Psycho-Pirate. Maybe that should have told you something."

Angle Man shook his head. "Psycho, fine, but for the last week, he's been going on and on and on about crop circles and secret cabals. It's driving us all up the wall." He paused, then added, "Besides Silver Banshee, that is. I don't think she listens to a single word any of us say, to be honest."

"About Psycho-Pirate, that's funny," Goldface began, "because on the way here, Monocle-"

"Psycho alert, psycho alert," Doctor Spectro said, walking quickly up to them, pulling his red shades off. Behind him, Psycho-Pirate walked toward the lot of them. Spectro added, in a whisper, "Disperse, disperse."

Heatwave looked at Doctor Spectro distastefully. "What, are we still kids, for Christ's sake?"

"To be honest," Bloodsport chimed in, looking around at their dilapidated headquarters, "this sorta does look like my old high school."

Angle Man raised his eyebrows, as Psycho-Pirate joined the circle next to him. "Detroit?"

Bloodsport nodded. "Detroit."

"I drove backwards once through Mexico without a car," Psycho-Pirate suddenly said.

Everyone groaned.

"When it happens, it's going to be so great," Psycho-Pirate added, as though it fit into the flow of the conversation. "I mean, we're in for a show."

Noncommittally, Heatwave replied, "Sure, sure."

"Hey," Psycho-Pirate said excitably, "have I told you about the Illuminati?"

"Actually," Goldface replied amidst the renewed groans, "I was wondering-"

"Gentlemen, it's late," Monocle spoke, walking up to them. "Tomorrow, we'll hold a few more training sessions, and then within the week, we'll strike against the League. Psycho-Pirate," he added, staring at the unstable individual, "I insist on talking to you as soon as possible."

"As the crow flies," Psycho-Pirate replied. Turning to the five others, he bowed. "I wish you all a fine night."

Both he and Monocle walked off, leaving the others to slowly disperse, Angle Man showing Goldface his room for the moment. Only Bloodsport stood in the center of the room, glancing suspiciously over at Psych-Pirate before finally going to bed.

* * *

"Ma'am, please stop," Greg called out to the disheveled girl. "I reckon I'd be able to help you out."

She ceased walking, and turned slowly to him. Her makeup was horribly running down her face, and she was still sobbing.

"What's your name, miss," Greg asked simply, his face stern. "Please, let me help."

She sniffed, and went to wipe her eyes, but as though she forgot she was topless, quickly moved her arm back down. Seeing this, Greg pulled off his jacket and handed it to her, then turned around.

"I'm Mandy," she finally said, and Greg heard she was putting his jacket on. "I am a hooker, like those guys said."

"Like horse hockey," Greg replied heatedly. "You're a human being, a woman, and worth all the dignity and respect a fella can give a lady. You safe for me to face, Mandy?"

"Ye-yeah," she said, and he turned around. "Thanks for your jacket."

"Listen, this is what is gonna happen," Greg replied. "Tell me who did this to you, and where. After that, you just sit here. I'll get you an ambulance. Get yourself checked over," he said smoothly.

"It was only supposed to be one guy," Mandy replied, sniffing away additional tears. "But he called his friends, and they all-" She broke down again, sobbing.

"Please, ma'am, who and where?"

"Quality Inn," Mandy said, wiping her face with her now free hands. "It's just down the road that way." She pointed the opposite direction she was walking, and Greg nodded.

"Where were you going, Mandy? There's nothing out that way 'sides Texico in six-odd miles."

"I was just looking for help," she replied miserably. "Those people in the bar weren't the first people to say no to me."

Disgusted, Greg said, "There ain't a single decent guy in this dungpile. Consarned pieces of-"

"What will you do to them," Mandy cut in.

"Darlin'," he said, gently, "you let me handle that. You just stay still. I'll call an ambulance for you. Don't you worry no more 'bout those fellas. They'll get what's comin' to 'em. You can take my word for it."

* * *

Bloodsport was the first one taken out that night.

It was simple – just make a little noise, such as throwing a few coins on the ground, and like that, Robert DuBois, who served his country in the first Gulf War, and had a spot of PTSD, was out cold. A karate chop to the back of the neck, and the muscle-bound villain was done.

Silver Banshee was next. Though unlike Bloodsport, he didn't risk waking her. He simply crept into her office-turned-room, and with a little chloroform, the second one was out of the way.

After tying her up, and more importantly, gagging her, the next on the list was Goldface, who was, by all accounts, a fearsome foe and fair fighter.

As it turned out, though, it's quite difficult to be an adequate combatant when asleep, as was proven also by Angle Man and Heatwave.

Monocle almost smiled at how easily it was all working out.

Doctor Spectro was still awake when Monocle reached his small room. Straightening out his monocle, which was getting extraordinarily bothersome, he walked into the villain's room.

"You're up awfully late, Mr. Emery."

Doctor Spectro nodded, and let out a yawn. "Yeah, I know. I just-"

He suddenly stopped, and looked up in surprise at Monocle. "How'd you know my real name, man? I never told anyone."

"How indeed," Monocle replied, and with a swift punch in the face, Tom Emery, Doctor Spectro, was no longer someone to worry about. Not that he was before.

"It was amazing," a voice spoke, and Monocle looked back. Psycho-Pirate stood in the doorway, his smile crazed. "Maybe it's because I'm off my meds, but this has been the funniest three weeks of my life."

"You told me you didn't even know until after the first couple nights here," Monocle replied, scratching his mustache. "While I appreciate you keeping quiet, what let you in on it?"

"Monocle, a gentlemanly individual by all accounts, taking me aside and talking about the Illuminati three days after picking me up? Come on, you had to know someone would see through it."

Monocle smiled. "I wanted to have fun. At least, as much fun as possible in this dump."

"Was it worth it," Psycho-Pirate asked with a smile.

"Just about," Monocle said, and with a swift punch, Psycho-Pirate was down.

"And only the Turtle remains," muttered Monocle, staring down at the limped bodies of Spectro and Psycho-Pirate. "Only the Turtle remains."

* * *

Vigilante quickly sprinted out of the Quality Inn, going for his motorcycle, which he hid behind a dumpster. Both six shooters were tucked back into their holsters and Vigilante wiped some sweat away from his face with his red bandanna, which he pulled off his head.

And he drove away fast, crossing into Texas on US Route 60 merely three minutes after jumping on his motorcycle.

Greg Sanders, his guitar strapped onto his back, was doing close to 80 when Superman flew by, telling him to pull over. Flabbergasted at first, and worried that Superman, and the Justice League, were somehow chasing him, pulled over, and almost panicking completely, began grabbing for one of his guns.

"Whoa, Vigilante, there's no need for that," Superman said, his voice displaying obvious confusion. "I just wanted to talk."

Vigilante breathed in deeply, and let his hand down. "I reckon you're here to snatch me up for the Justice League then, yes?"

Superman nodded, unsurprised. "Word's gotten out?"

"I done heard heroes from Anaheim to Augusta were getting herded up," Vigilante replied. "But I reckon I should be right honest with you. I don't think I can join."

"Why's that, son," Superman asked. "Someone with your talents could help us out quite a bit. In fact, I feel-"

"I shot and killed three people tonight, Superman," Vigilante said, his voice cold. "And I'll tell you what for, I don't regret it."

The Man of Steel stood there in silence, contemplating. "I've heard good things about you, as have the others. It was a unanimous decision to offer you a place in the League."

"Dang if that ain't amazing," Vigilante replied, tipping his hat in respect, "but I reckon you may have spoke prematurely."

Superman thought a bit more, then finally spoke. "In three days, every new member will be moving up to the Watchtower. I want you to be there. The founding members will hold a trial, and determine whether or not your actions were warranted. If we determine that they were, you will be granted membership in the Justice League. If not, then the official story will be that you prefer working alone. Given your namesake, that might not be hard at all to sell."

"I thank you, I truly do," Vigilante said. "I'd be honored to join the League, but at the same time, I don't want to besmirch it either."

"Then we will see you in three days," Superman replied grimly. "We'll send word of where to be so you can be teleported up there. I'll inform the senior members of this trial, and we will go from there."

Vigilante nodded, and Superman flew away into the night.

_Well, dagnabbit_, Greg Sanders considered, glancing up at the quickly-fading shape of Superman, _I really done stepped in it this time_.

And he felt bad. Disappointing Superman, who had helped stave off an alien invasion, was embarrassing. He also knew, though, that when it came down to it, he'd have done it over again.

If that kept him out of the League, as far as Greg was concerned, then it's a small price to pay for justice.

* * *

Monocle knocked loudly on the door, but before Turtle could answer, he barged in.

Wide-eyed, Turtle glanced up in surprise. "Is something wrong, friend," he asked, drawing out each syllable with excruciating annoyance.

"Been playing a hard game, Turtle. Ever since I found out you escaped prison," Monocle replied. He ripped his namesake out of his eye and threw it to the ground. "Three guards supposedly died, though I know China had you released to further deteriorate the state of Louisiana."

"I don't-"

"Not only do you pose a threat to the stability of this state, you pose a threat to the Justice League. Or would have, had you actually been able to contact Monocle."

Turtle stared bug-eyed at him. Wordless. Which, when it came down to it, is the way the Question liked it.

"Infiltrating was easy enough. Getting you all in one place, and taking you out, easy also."

"But, who are you," Turtle managed to croak, his confusion etched onto his face.

"That is the question," he replied.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the Question, now donning his typical blue fedora and trench coat, not to mention his faceless visage, exited the long-abandoned factory he's called home for three and a half-weeks now.

He shuffled forward, his happiness already waning. _So many criminals, but did I go after the right ones?_

Question didn't know. He knew a few things, though, for sure: Once he got back to Hub City, someone from the League would track him down and offer him membership. Question would accept, because if he didn't, the League wouldn't trust him. But would he trust the League?

He didn't know this either. He did know, he just prevented a challenge to the League, one composed of B and C-rate villains, one that would be unlikely to cripple them, but again, you never know.

You never know.


	8. Moving Day

**Author's Note:**

**I apologize for the long wait in putting this chapter out. Much in my life has happened since I last posted a chapter, among them the death of my father just under a month ago.**

**I am planning on getting back into the groove of this story, though, so please, bear with me should you maintain an interest.**

**This chapter takes place just around 30 minutes before the first episode of Justice League Unlimited.**

**Any questions or comments, please let me know.**

**I do not own Justice League Unlimited - this is purely for entertainment.**

* * *

The newly-built Watchtower was brimming with activity. The personnel were running around in a frenzy, some directing the new members of the Justice League to their rooms and others handing out identification cards to the personnel and the members alike.

The heroes, however, had a job almost as challenging – moving all of their possessions into their new rooms.

"Consarned, dang-busted television," Vigilante shouted as he dropped it on his foot for the third time. _If this thing's busted, I swear I'll-_

"Hark! I bid thee, dost thou require assistance," a voice spoke to him.

Vigilante turned and saw, most literally, a knight in shining armor. "Well, I'll be," Vigilante exclaimed, straightening up. "Howdy, pardner."

"How now, friend," Shining Knight replied. "Wouldst thou allow, perchance, to shake, and in the sights of God and men, declare a bond undying 'tween yourself and I?"

Vigilante grinned, and held out his hand. "So long as you grab this blasted television for me, I'd shake to that."

Shining Knight grabbed his hand, and smiled.

The first bond of the day was made.

* * *

Courtney Whitmore, or Stargirl, as she'd become fond of calling herself, was bored out of her skull.

After she and Pat moved into their respective rooms (_and right next to each other_, Stargirl bemoaned. _Is privacy that much to ask for?_), Pat went straight to meet Steel, who Stargirl thought as nothing more than another man in a robotic suit. _Besides the hammer, I've seen like three of those already today, and that's not counting Pat._

_And now neither one knows I'm here_, she glumly thought, quickly becoming uninterested with all this technical, engineering babble.

She glanced around, noting how chaotic everything looked so far. A few no-name heroes running or flying around, personnel following after them, handing out ID cards. Courtney pulled out hers and, squinting her eyes hard, examined it. _Puh-leese tell me that is not a zit_.

Courtney sighed, and shoved the card back into her pocket. _Well, guess Pat won't miss me_, she considered, and ambled away from the two, in search of excitement, or, at the very least, something to keep her mind off the boredom.

* * *

"This is madness," Orion stated, looking down at Supergirl, who stood so much shorter than did he. "These fools have been offered a place in the Justice League?"

"Hey now," Supergirl protested. "Give them a chance. Besides, they let me and you into the League, so they must have good taste sometime, am I right?"

Orion stared hard at who Supergirl believed to be Creeper, who was at the time goofing off with another hero she didn't know. Blue, horns on his head, and a dangerous looking staff. _Still_, she thought, but dared not say, _at least some people know how to have fun around here._

"When I was offered a place in the League, I felt pride. I felt myself being granted a seat amongst champions such as Superman. I did not expect clownish buffoons chasing each other like school children."

"I think you should lay off," Supergirl said, her temper getting to her, and sincerely wishing she was on the other side of the room with Steel and the robot guy than next to this arrogant dick. "These are your teammates. That is, if you decide to stay. Wouldn't that be a laugh," she added, a smirk on her face, "mighty Orion leaving the League while members like Creeper remain?"

Orion didn't reply, but glared stonily at her. Supergirl stared back, then sighed.

"Just give it some thought, alright? For Superman?"

"I will consider such," Orion replied. "But as to whether or not I can respect such fellow heroes? I know not how to answer that."

Supergirl nodded, and flew away. _I guess I couldn't ask for anything more._

* * *

The private Conference Room was dim and quiet as Batman stood in the far corner, while the ruckus outside continued to seep into the room. The door slid open, and in stepped Wonder Woman, who walked up to him in a huff.

"You do know that from everyone else's perspective, you appear to be sulking, Bruce, yes?"

"I'm not needed out there," Batman replied moodily. "That's the extent to it."

Wonder Woman smiled at this. "You mean you're scared of making new friends."

Batman shook his head in annoyance. "Actually, that's not what I mean, as I said-"

"Don't get snappy with me, Bruce," she replied unhappily, the grin disappearing from her face. "You're going to have to meet everyone sooner or later. Why not start now?"

While Batman opened his mouth to reply, the rest of the senior League members walked in, Flash first, followed by Green Lantern, Superman, and last, J'onn. The door shut behind them as Superman wordlessly motioned for everyone to take their seats.

"Status updates," Superman began. "Any problems so far?"

"There's a guy walking around without a face," Flash replied, sitting down. "Which one is that again?"

"Wally, you should read the files. That's Question," Green Lantern replied.

Flash went on. "Yeah, was he the conspiracy theory lunatic?"

"He does tend to believe things that are out there," Wonder Woman answered as politely as she could muster. "But based on the information we have, he has a good heart."

"So a loon without a face waltzes into the Justice League?" He laughed wildly at this.

Exasperated, Superman replied, "We've been over this already. They're now members, so if you could, we need to begin treating them like equals."

Flash, still laughing, countered this, saying "He's apparently a certifiable crockpot, and we're treating him like an equal?"

"Wally," J'onn began, his tone one of very thin patience.

He suddenly stopped, and looked around the table. "Okay, joking aside," Green Lantern raised an eyebrow, which Flash saw, "I mean it, you guys. Wanna know my real problem? I never said it before 'cause I felt silly thinking it, and I just kept it to myself."

"For once," Green Lantern muttered under his breath, and before Flash could retort, Superman cut in.

"What's on your mind, Flash?"

"Well," he began nervously, not looking any of his peers in the eyes, and anxiously interlocking his fingers, "it's like this. The reason we were so successful, before, you know, the Invasion, is that we weren't just team members, we were friends. I just don't see how we can do that, have that same kind of connection, between 60 different people who don't know each other." He looked up, now twiddling his thumbs. "Sure, we're all up here now, all teammates. But can we ever be a family like we were before, with members like Question and Creeper?"

Wonder Woman looked at Flash sweetly, and was about to say something before Superman beat her to it.

"That's a legitimate concern, Wally. And you're right, it won't be easy befriending some of our fellow heroes, many of whom have operated solo for many years now. I'd even say, for some members, it's their first chance at friendship in some time. Take Question – if he is as paranoid and potentially unstable as has been reported, then we have our work cut out for us on him alone. Vibe's another example – he's had to fend for himself for so long, I doubt he remembers what having a family feels like, if you don't count gangs. Still, while it may be difficult for some, we have to try to integrate them into the League. It's that simple."

"And I will add," J'onn replied, "that while some members may prove difficult to work with at first, there are others here who want desperately to be both in the League and have a family."

"Hear, hear," Wonder Woman said. "Let's be kind to our new teammates, and I'm sure before too long, we'll gain their trust and friendship."

Flash nodded, seemingly happy with the answer. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate taking me seriously."

"If you make a serious point, we'll treat you seriously, Flash," Green Lantern said. "Come on, man, you know that."

"I agree with what was said by both J'onn and Superman on this matter," Batman began, "but I feel as though we should bring in Vigilante."

Everyone nodded glumly. This task was sure to be the most unpleasant of the day, and no one had it in them to do it.

"Let's deal with that," Superman nodded, "and then, if he still hasn't shown any indication of coming, one of us needs to go speak with Green Arrow. Flash, could you go collect Vigilante, let him know we're ready," Superman asked.

"He's the cowboy," Green Lantern added. "Guns, bandana, cowboy hat, can't miss him."

Flash nodded, and sped out of the room to do so.

* * *

Courtney walked into the commissary for the first time, and saw a small group of heroes sitting at a far table, none whom she knew.

A red-head in purple and silver saw her and waved. "Hey, come join us," he shouted.

Courtney raised her hand and walked over to the odd bunch. Aside from the red-head, a rather large man in a blue mask, a short-haired African-American woman, a girl who almost looked homeless, another red-head with a bow and arrows, and a man in a strange, golden helmet sat around the table.

"Hey, guys," she said cheerily, pulling a chair up. "I'm Stargirl."

"I feel so old," the red-head said, smiling wistfully. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ralph Dibny, or Elongated Man."

"Vixen," the African-American woman said, nodded her head.

"Cynthia, or Gypsy if you really want to call me that," the homeless girl said, making a face. "Honestly, I never called myself Gypsy. Other people did, but I guess it stuck."

"Atom-Smasher," the large man said, offering a hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Speedy here," the younger red-head added.

"Ray," the final man replied, his voice sounding significantly older than Stargirl would have guessed. "It's both my actual name and codename, before you ask," he added sheepishly.

"So what are you all talking about," Stargirl asked, looking at them all.

"Ralph here has been promising us a story of days of old," Ray replied, "but so far, we've gotten squat."

"You kids today lack patience," Elongated Man good-naturedly criticized.

"Or maybe you're waiting for a larger audience," Vixen slyly said.

Elongated Man nodded. "That is another possibility. You ever hear of the Justice Society, kid," Ralph asked Stargirl, smiling. "Or any of you, for that matter?"

Everyone shook their heads besides Atom-Smasher. "Yeah, some friends of mine actually met a few of them."

"Nice, kid," Elongated Man replied, and Stargirl could tell he really meant it. "For the rest of you, though, you're in for a treat."

"Spit it out," Vixen playfully responded. "Who are they?"

"Well," Elongated Man said happily, "the Justice League, being Superman, Batman, Flash, Green Lantern, J'onn and Hawkgirl, were not the first team of superheroes. But the thing is, there hasn't been one for quite a while, so to a lot of people, it seemed like a novel concept. Plus, since the Justice Society has retired, they've been somewhat reclusive. Not to say that some didn't fight on past the dissolution of the team solo, but it wasn't the same. A few of them just retired the second they disbanded."

"When was that," Ray asked. "Like, how long ago are we talking about?"

"The Justice Society, or, fully, the Justice Society of America-"

Almost everyone at the table groaned, even Courtney, despite her patriotic attire.

"Hey, kids, it was a different time," Elongated Man defensively replied. "They formed 1960, before any of that anti-American sentiment began taking over. Anyway, Co-founded by the Flash, though not the one we all know, Mr. Terrific, and Green Lantern, also not the one we know, they linked up to the US government. Basically, while they were free to fight who they pleased, if the government had threats they wanted the JSA to deal with, they'd do so."

"I can't imagine a government-run superhero team was popular going into the mid and late 1960's," Speedy replied in a serious tone.

"They were in their own, pro-Vietnam, pro-government circle," Elongated Man replied. "You're right, though. The protesters saw them as little more than stooges for President Johnson, and later, Nixon. Well, this is true for most of the members, anyway. There was one member who the protesters appreciated, but that's a story for another time. We don't know if they would have gotten popular with more people after Vietnam, though, because they disbanded, or were forced to disband, in 1972. But they always had a turbulent history."

"Three heroes don't make a very large team," Stargirl commented, and Cynthia nodded along with her. "I mean, if they were uber-powerful, sure, but-"

"Well, Flash, Mr. Terrific and Green Lantern were just the founding members," Elongated Man explained. "They had lots of members throughout the years. Let's see," he began, using his fingers to keep count, "there's Sandman, Black Canary, Atom, Spectre, Hourman, and Starman. Some were only there for a few years, but hey, they still count. I think, if I recall," he added, scratching his head, "that the two busiest years for them were 1964 and 1968. They had nine members those years, which was the record. Not the same nine members, but still."

"The Justice League's been pretty stable in membership," Speedy replied. "I mean, aside from Hawkgirl, it's been the same six members from the 1999 invasion to today."

"Sure, but it's only been three years, kid," Elongated Man replied. "Three years and a half, to be exact, but this team lasted from '60 to '72. That's 12 years, and for what it's worth, they kept a decent membership, at least up to 1969. Afterwards, well, things went downhill."

"Dude, how do you even know all this," Ray incredulously asked. "I mean, are you obsessive or something?"

A nostalgic sort of smile came over Elongated Man's face. "I was born 1959, okay guys? When I was a kid, I watched these people. In a way, I grew up with them. I remember, when I was seven, I sent Hourman a letter, and he sent one back to me. And I believe it was him too, not some automated signature crap like nowadays. Back then, you could trust heroes, and most of the mainstream public loved them. After they disbanded, you didn't see anything like that until the Justice League got together. They were good times, and hey, if it seems I worship them, there a worse things you can worship."

Vixen smiled at this. "You may be an old man, but we're happy to have you, Ralph."

"Hear, hear," Stargirl replied, and the others nodded in agreement.

"We're gonna have to make you the official Justice League story guy," Atom Smasher said affably.

"Well, there's one more part of the story I should tell, then," said Elongated Man, a mischievous grin coming onto his face. "One last part, and you might want to rescind that."

"What's that, Ralph," Cynthia jumped in, excited.

"There was another member of the JSA I didn't mention. He joined pretty late, in 1968. But the thing is, he's actually still fighting crime to this day." Ralph's grin widened. "His name's Wildcat, and he joined the Justice League. I saw him walk by 25 minutes ago."

* * *

A red streak passed Wildcat, and upon seeing it, Wildcat shouted out "Flash!"

A screeching came from twenty yards away, and Flash turned back. "What's up, dude?"

"Can you let Superman know that I'd like ta talk ta yous'all whenever possible?"

"Sure thing, man," Flash replied with a curt nod. "We have a tight schedule, but we'll fit you in. Don't worry. I'll get you when I can."

Wildcat grunted, "Thanks."

Flash ran off again, and the 62-year old hero sighed.

"Been here half an hour, and already I have a headache," he murmured. "And I doubt it's gonna get better quick."

* * *

"'Tis most splendid, good sir," Shining Knight exclaimed, looking at Vigilante's television set-up.

"Aw, shucks, pardner, it ain't much," Vigilante replied, slapping Shining Knight on the back. "5.1 surround sound. You ever want to watch them moving pictures, you just let me know. But," Vigilante faulted, and gulped. "I reckon I should tell you something, friend."

"Yea, methinks so if thou art troubled," Shining Knight replied curiously. "If thou spake your troubles, perchance they'll vanish. Verily, 'tis so."

"Listen, there's a chance I won't be here in a few hours," Vigilante said. "Honestly, I may be a goner as sure as them Thanagarians are killers."

"Prithee, dost thou-"

A red streak ran into the room, and Flash skidded to a stop. "Been looking for you all over, Vigilante. We're ready for you- oh, hey," he suddenly said distracted, "great set-up, dude. That's one bombtastic television. I don't even have a flat screen back at my place."

"If I can stay, partner, you're more than welcome to join Shining Knight and I as we flip through them picture shows," Vigilante replied, somewhat grimly.

The smile left Flash's face, and he nodded. "Hey, we'll be fair. But we shouldn't keep them. Let's go."

Shining Knight stepped out of Vigilante's room, staring at his new friend. "I will see you anon, friend."

"Cross your fingers," Vigilante replied. He turned to Flash. "Let's get this show on the road, kid."

* * *

A boom box/radio on his shoulders blasting Big Pun's debut album _Capital Punishment_, Vibe didn't impress many people who saw him. But if they saw through his light blue shades, they'd realize that Vibe was not one to care about the impressions he gave out.

"Hey, dude," someone shouted. "Mind turning that down?"

"_Culero_," Vibe muttered, turning to the source of the outcry. "What's it to you, man?"

A guy dressed in a full dark blue and black costume stepped up to him. "I just wanna talk, and didn't want to do it over this ruckus."

Vibe stared warily at the man, then reduced the volume slowly. "What up, bro?"

"I just wanted to compliment you on your costume," the man replied.

"You making fun of me, yo? You wanna rumble or something?"

"No, no, man," the black and blue figure replied, his tone conciliatory. "Sorry if you thought I wasn't being sincere, but I really like the costume. So many of these guys dress so drably – you really caught my eye."

Vibe stared at the man a bit longer, then allowed a grin to form on his face. "Gracias hombre. I'm Vibe."

"Obsidian," the man replied. They shook, and Obsidian added, "You're a hip-hop guy, then?"

"I have many tastes," Vibe said, smiling.

"So do I," Obsidian agreed, and Vibe was sure he heard him say that with a smile. "I haven't spoken to many people here, yet. Been hiding out in my room for the most part. Saw you and thought you'd be a good guy to get to know."

"Tienes razón, amigo," Vibe replied, nodding. "I am a good guy to know."

Obsidian nodded too. "Want to grab something to eat? I've not gotten any lunch yet, so let's see if it's worth it."

Vibe agreed.

* * *

Stargirl and Speedy were slowly walking down the hallway in awkward silence, as they had been since they left the commissary, if for no other reason than Stargirl really wanted to ask him out. His stern look about him, however, proved to cause a hitch. It's only when an idiot blaring rap music passed by that Stargirl spoke up.

"You think that Ralph was telling the truth about Wildcat, or just playing a joke on us?"

"Oh, that's true for sure," Speedy replied. "I never met Wildcat, but he's a bit of a legend. My ex-partner always spoke pretty highly of him. In a manner of speaking."

"Oh, you've been a sidekick too," Stargirl asked curiously.

"Part-ner," Speedy stressed. "He's a good guy, don't get me wrong, but he could never see me as my own man. Also kept shoving his political beliefs onto me, and that got old real quick."

"My partner's my step-dad. He's okay, just strict," Stargirl replied, her tone a more complaining one than she was looking to use.

"Hey, it gets better," Speedy said reassuringly. "Pretty soon, you'll be out on your own, kicking butt and taking names without some overhead figure criticizing your every move. I mean, you're pretty young. You'll be at this for years."

Stargirl smiled at this. "How long you been doing this?"

"Since '97," Speedy said. "My ex-partner's been fighting the good fight since the 1970's. Almost a shame he's not here."

"Why didn't he join up," Stargirl asked, glancing over curiously at faceless man in a blue trench coat walking by with some boxes in his gloved hands.

"I don't know," Speedy replied, shrugging. "Hell, I've not talked to him in a few years, now. We got into a bit of an argument, and neither of us put much effort in to mend it."

"What happened," she asked, straightening the mask on her face.

"Some court in California upheld a ban on Affirmative Action policies, and I made it clear that I supported the decision. He sorta went ballistic."

"That's a stupid thing to argue over," Stargirl replied, confused.

"Yeah, well, you don't know Ollie," Speedy said with a grin. "If you knew him, believe me, it'd make sense."

* * *

Vigilante stood in front of the six most powerful heroes on Earth, and presented his case. He was honest. He stated that while he is not one to generally kill, extreme situations require extreme measures. He also made clear his general zero-tolerance policy for violent crimes against women, and how that, more than anything else, led to the death of the three men in New Mexico.

All-in-all, Vigilante thought he did an okay job. Superman asked most of the questions, clarifying points, while the others listened. Wonder Woman in particular seemed supportive, as did Batman during certain portions of his testimony, though Vigilante had to admit, he wasn't entirely sure – he was a hard cuss to read.

"That's my case," Vigilante finished, somewhat lamely, bowing his head. "Either throw me out or keep me. I reckon I deserve whatever you come up with."

"Thank you, Vigilante," Superman replied. "Please wait outside while we discuss this. You'll be summoned once we've come to a decision."

Vigilante nodded and left the room, and his fate, to the six heroes behind him.

* * *

Hawk stood proudly at the foot of his new bed, glancing up at the American flag, covering the wall.

_God Bless America_, Hank thought. _Best damn country in the world, despite the crap Don says_.

A knock on his door tore him from his patriotic stupor, and Hawk found himself staring at a stranger in red, a star centered on his costume.

"Can I help you," Hawk asked uncertainly.

"Just wanted to let you know I appreciate the flag," the stranger replied, nodding to Hawk's wall. "Don't see too many heroes proud to display their love for their country. Not recently, anyways."

"I bleed red, white and blue, sir," Hawk commented, then blushed afterwards. "I mean-"

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, and more so, you don't need to call me 'sir,'" the man replied with a smile. "I'm Commander Steel, or Henry, if you want."

"I'm Hawk," he replied. "Commander? You serve in Afghanistan," Hawk asked, the awe on his face obvious.

"Served one tour. IED in Kandahar last March almost got me. Got discharged afterwards," Commander Steel replied. "Was going to jump back in, but then the Invasion happened, and at the time, Thanagarians seemed a bigger concern than the terrorists. Guessing you've not seen combat?"

"I want to go over to Afghanistan, but my father would kill me if I didn't finish college first," Hawk sheepishly replied. "Brother would too, now that I mention it. Only got half a semester left, though."

"I'm not much older than you. I'd recommend what you feel is best, though. While family is deeply important, don't let them sidetrack you from fulfilling your destiny."

Hawk nodded at this. "Deep words, pal."

"Read them off a fortune cookie, but thanks," Commander Steel said with a smile.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I need to go check on my brother, though, and see if he's all settled in."

"Brother a hero too? Bet you guys work very well together," Commander Steel nodded in approval.

Hawk sighed. "It can get really rough, but yeah, for the most part, I feel that's a fair assessment."

"Well, I'll leave you to it. Catch you later, friend."

"Will do," Hawk replied, a grin coming to his face as his new acquaintance walked away.

* * *

"That guy was totally compensating for something, Tora. Why else would the fool be carrying that huge boom box around?"

"Shush," Ice replied, worriedly looking around the two of them. "I mean, I agree, but if we're to work with him, we may not want to make enemies with him."

"As if that punk could be a threat to us," Fire aggressively stated. "I concede for you, though, hun."

"How sweet," Ice replied with a smile. "Want to go get some food, though? I knew we should have eaten before coming up here."

"Did someone say food, ladies," a voice spoke, and a blue figure, horns and a staff, leaped toward them.

Far from being scared, the two women stared dubiously at him.

"We did, yes," Fire began, "but within the context of a private conversation, one which-"

"Do either of you gals even know where the commissary is," the man pointedly asked.

The silence between Fire and Ice was enough the answer the man's question.

"Thought not. I can accompany you two lovely ladies there, in exchange for polite conversation."

"Blackmail seems unbecoming of a hero," Fire replied, though with a smirk on her face.

"You do what you gotta do," he replied, unconcerned.

"And if we decline your generous offer," Ice spoke up, a tint of humor in her voice.

"Completely up to you, of course," he stated. "In which case, I'd have to find another lovely pair of damsels in distress. I was already turned down by one Black Canary and a she-beast named Huntress. Truth be told, I'm moderately worried there are no kind souls up here."

"Just to clarify, by 'kind souls,' you mean 'attractive women,' do you not?"

Shrugging, he replied, "You say tomato, I say tomahto." Sighing, he added, "I'm Blue Devil. Scary name, I know. Strikes fear in the hearts of all those who oppose me and the like. You can just call me Daniel. Or Dan. Or Danny. Honestly, I'm not picky."

Taking pity on his desperation, the green-haired woman nodded. "I'm Fire, and my friend is Ice. If you can lead us to where we can get lunch, I suppose there'd be no problem, Dan."

"Best news I've heard all day. And that's after Creeper told me he was going to try and start a prank war with Flash."

At this, the two women chuckled, and the three of them left to locate the commissary.

* * *

"My view on the matter is simple," Batman began. "While I choose to abstain from voting, I will lay out my perspective. I don't like what Vigilante did. I don't approve of what Vigilante did. While I can certainly understand the circumstance he was placed in, acting as the judge, jury and executioner is not what the League is about. At the same time, however, this was a single transgression. Unless there is evidence to suggest he's done this before, I say give him a pass. If he kills again while a member of the League, then we hand him over to the law."

Wonder Woman nodded. "I do wish you'd reconsider about voting, Bruce, but I definitely agree with where you're coming from."

"Three men, potentially innocent, are dead, though," Superman grimly stated. "Those men were killed without any cause, other than the words of a woman who easily could have been misleading Vigilante as to the circumstances she placed herself in."

"I apologize, but could you clarify that, Clark," Wonder Woman replied, her face fierce. "It sounds to me you're saying that while the girl in question may have been raped, she placed herself into the situation, and because of that, it's not as big a deal."

"That's not at all what I'm saying," Superman shot back. "The woman claimed that she propositioned herself to only one individual, and that the individual in question called two others. The only evidence of this comes from her, who may not be telling the truth. Using potentially faulty information, Vigilante took matters into his own hands instead of reporting the incident to the authorities. Had he gone that route, no one would have been killed."

"Are you aware of how raped women in this country are treated when they go through the legal system? I've not been away from Themyscira for all that long, but I can tell that this country has a ways to go before the legal system treats both genders equally."

"I think we're getting sidetracked," J'onn replied before Superman could reply with what was certain to be heated words. "A potential member, in the heat of passion, killed three men who, by my understanding, forced a woman into unwanted sexual activities. I feel as though if this is accurate, the reaction Vigilante had was understandable, providing he guarantees it won't happen again. I am leaning toward letting this individual instance slide, providing we keep an eye on him."

Frustrated, Superman replied, "I agree that his reaction, on the surface, is understandable. Still, three men are dead. Anyone who cared even a bit about justice should have approached this in a completely different manner."

"You're missing that there are two forms of justice," Batman replied. "Legal justice and street justice. While legally, I support what you're saying entirely, if the woman gave an accurate description of how these men used her, then anyone can understand how Vigilante acted the way he did."

"I'm sorry, Superman," Green Lantern cut in, "but I agree with Batman on this one. What Vigilante did was extraordinarily ill-advised and foolish, and we definitely need to ensure something like that never happens again should he be admitted into the League. At the same time, if any of us were placed in the same situation he was, who knows how we'd react."

"Flash, what are your thoughts," J'onn asked, glancing over at him, who'd been unusually silent throughout the whole of the testimony.

Flash sighed. "Listen, this type of thing is far deeper than the stuff I deal with in Central City. Personally, I can't imagine killing anyone. Ever. At the same time, I can't imagine ever doing what was done to that woman-"

"Allegedly done," Superman cut in.

"Well, I believe her side of the story, Supes," Flash replied combatively. "No one deserves to have that happen to them, prostitute or not. I wouldn't have done what Vigilante did. Just hearing what happened, though, I got angry, and that doesn't happen much. I'm not saying that those three guys should have been killed, but, well, if they did do what the woman said they did, to be perfectly honest, I'm not too choked up over it."

"And if they had been innocent," Superman inquired.

Flash squirmed in his seat. "I wasn't there. I don't know how exactly this girl told Vigilante her side of the story. Vigilante apparently believed her, though, and if I recall, all of us supported reaching out to him. We trusted his judgment when we first spoke about him. I'm inclined to still trust him."

Green Lantern patted Flash on the back. "Good speech, Wally."

Superman shook his head, which caused Wonder Woman to glare hard at her friend. Before she could speak, though, J'onn spoke up.

"Unless anyone else has additional words, it may be best to vote. Any last words?"

"Just a few," Superman said, his voice steady. He glanced around the table, eying each of the members of the League before talking. "A hero who resorts to killing people is no hero at all. Even if the individuals in question had been guilty, they wouldn't deserve being shot down as they were. Vigilante, based on all we knew and found out about him, seemed a very solid person. Based off these events, though, I will fully admit I cannot trust nor support him joining the League."

J'onn nodded at this. "Anyone else?"

Everyone shook their heads, aside from Batman, who simply stated, "One last point of consideration: Vigilante had been drinking that night, and the alcohol also may have affected him in a way that caused this situation to get out of hand, and is probable to suggest that when not drinking, his reaction would be different. This is not meant as an excuse. It is simply pointing out a fact not discussed."

Again, J'onn nodded. "With that said, I propose we vote. The question: Should we admit Vigilante onto the League, given the information we have, providing we keep an eye on him for future crimes and violations? Superman."

"Nay," he spoke firmly.

"Yea," stated Flash.

"Yea," Green Lantern continued.

"Yea," Wonder Woman called, her face still red with anger.

"Yea," J'onn concluded. "The motion passes with four-to-one. The motion is adopted. Flash, if you could."

Flash grimly nodded, though inside, he was relieved the worst of the conversation was over. He nodded and stepped out of the Conference Room to collect Vigilante, happy they could supply him with the good news.

* * *

"Your flair for the dramatic is really something else," Vixen said, her tone bemused, minutes after Speedy and Stargirl left.

"Well, if you've been around as long as I have, you'd want to spice it up to," Ralph replied with a good-natured smile.

"You ever work with Wildcat before, man," Ray asked, interested.

"Well, we worked together a bit when I was green behind the ears in the late '80's, but he retired for something like ten years, and I fell out of contact with him," Ralph admitted. "He can be intense at times, but he's a good guy. I doubt he's changed since I last spoke to him. I'd definitely recommend talking with him at some point though, kids."

Gypsy looked thoughtful and nodded. "Yeah, the gruff ones generally have a soft spot, in my experience."

"Black Canary is a good friend of his, if you've heard of her," Ralph added. "Another good person to get to know, now that I think about it."

"Well, guys, I'm off," Atom-Smasher spoke up. "Was going to meet up with a few friends and then sort out my room. Also need to check the reception - if I can't watch Judging Amy, I'll get grumpy," he stated, an amused smile on his face. "Nice meeting you all," he concluded, with a nod. "See you all later for the speech tonight."

"Sure thing – let's hope Superman keeps it short," Ralph replied with a grin. "Until then, friend."

As Atom-Smasher exited the commissary, a figure in black-and-blue, followed by a Latino in an oddly garish costume, walked in.

"Hey guys, come over here," Atom-Smasher heard Elongated Man call out in the same friendly tone he used to get Atom-Smasher over there earlier today. He smiled. _Ralph sure knows how to make friends._

_What a guy._

* * *

"It's nearing 3:00 – what else is on the agenda," Superman called out, still disgruntled over the processions that had passed.

"I got word from Animal Man," Green Lantern replied. "Says that while he'd be delighted to join, he's going through some family matters, and respectfully declines. Said he might be open to it later on, though."

The rest of the League nodded. "We should certainly keep watch on him," J'onn said. "While Vixen and B'wana Beast combined bring to the table what Animal Man would, it'd still be beneficial to have additional manpower."

"Oh, that reminds me," Flash suddenly spoke. "Some guy, Wildcat I think his name is, wanted a quick word with us. I said I'd let him know when we have time for him. Now a good time?"

"I promised Mr. Terrific an audience with us also, so we may want to speak with him first," Superman stated.

"Which one's Mr. Terrific," Flash asked, obviously getting used to his messenger position.

"Black, 'T' symbol on his face, silver and black coat with red trimming," Green Lantern swiftly replied. "If he's bringing up what I suspect he is, this shouldn't take long."

"That sounds oddly ominous," Wonder Woman replied, a sly smile on her face. "Are we expecting bad news?"

"On the contrary, I think he's attempting to work with J'onn coordinating missions," Green Lantern stated, shrugging. "He's a smart guy, so if that's what it is, I'm cool with it."

"You're likely right," Batman added. "Let's hear him out, see what he's asking, and go from there. I'm more concerned about Wildcat."

Wonder Woman sighed. "Well, let's get this done with – I'm eager to meet more of our members. Being trapped here was not how I had imagined this day going."

"Funny," Green Lantern replied, a grimace on his face. "It's exactly how I saw this day going."

With that, Flash stood up. "Be back in a flash," he said with a grin, and fled from the room.

* * *

"Well, it's been a fun time," Speedy said with a smile. "But I've gotta get back to my room. Want help looking for your stepdad?"

Stargirl groaned. "Are you kidding? Knowing Pat, he'll find me seconds after you leave, all angry that I'm hanging out with older men who aren't him."

Speedy chuckled at this. "Parents, step-parents, hell, what can ya do? More of a reason to get back, though - I'd rather not be bruised tonight during the grand coronation."

Nodding, and hoping her cheeks weren't too red, Stargirl replied, "Well, if you ever wanna hang out, let me know."

"Will do," Speedy said, tipping an invisible hat.

_I hope he doesn't think I'm too young_, Stargirl mused as Speedy walked down the hallway. _I mean, he can't be much older than me. Like, four years tops. _She ran her right hand through her blonde hair, and sighed. _As Pat says, time will tell._

With that in mind, she started back to the bridge.

* * *

"I won't take up too much of your time," Wildcat began, looking over the six senior members of the Justice League. "Listen, I just want to make something clear - I have no problem helping out with training the younger members. It needs being done, and I'll do it. Just don't keep me off the active roster on account of my age. I still got some fight left in me, and if you guys purposely sideline me, well, I'd be pretty steamed."

"I understand your concern, Wildcat," Superman replied, nodding slowly. "You may not believe me, but we never intended to take that route. We all know how valuable you are, both for training and in the field. You've been at this for some time, no doubt, but if we didn't think you'd cut it, we wouldn't have asked you to join."

"Also," Batman added, "I happen to know Black Canary. I've worked with her a few times. You come up quite a bit, and if you still impress her, you have my word that we've no intention to let you down."

"That's all I wanted," Wildcat concluded, sounding no more pleased than when he stepped into the Conference Room. "Thanks yous'all for seeing me."

"Of course. See you at the ceremony tonight," Wonder Woman said kindly.

With that piece of business concluded, and Wildcat now out of the room, Flash yawned loudly.

"I don't see what that guy's worried about. If he's not in peak physical shape, then I don't know who is. Besides Superman, of course," he stated.

"Well, the question of his age did come up," Green Lantern admitted. "You may have been dozing off, Wally."

Flash made a face of surprise. "You actually weren't thinking of sidelining him, where you?"

"No, I meant what I said," Superman stated. "It was discussed, the motion dismissed unanimously, and we moved on. Wildcat is extraordinarily valuable to us, and to put him in a situation in which he feels he is not being respected would be very foolish."

Those around the room nodded. Batman then spoke up. "I think one of us should go down and talk to Green Arrow. See if we can make him see sense."

"I can go," Green Lantern replied. "Maybe something about you or Superman rubs him the wrong way. We know he'd be a great member, so I'll see what I can make happen."

"Worse case scenario," Superman said, a smile on his lips, "just bring him up here anyways."

"Will do," Green Lantern said, nodding. He stood up, making for the door, looking back before leaving the room, stating, "If any other problems arise, for the love of God, please don't inform me."

Flash and Wonder Woman laughed at this, while Superman merely grinned. "I'll do what I can, friend."

After he left, Superman looked over the remaining three heroes. "Well, I think it's time we go mingle. If anything happens that I should know about, we can meet back here."

Flash was the first to leave, followed by an eager Superman and J'onn. Wonder Woman held back, glancing at Batman.

"Please tell me, Bruce, that you're not going to sit here all afternoon. I know you don't much care for meeting people, but these are our teammates now. Give them a chance."

"I'll do what I can, Diana," he replied stoically.

At this, Wonder Woman nodded, and exited the room.

* * *

"Excuse me, sir," a voice rang out from behind Superman. He looked back, and met the eyes of Captain Atom.

"Yes, how can I help you," Superman asked politely.

"I wished to say that I apologize for getting here later than I had indicated, and am ready to report for duty."

"No worries, Captain," Superman replied bemusedly. "We'll all be meeting in the promenade in half an hour. Right now, I'd just recommend meeting people. See you tonight."

Captain Atom nodded. "Likewise, sir."

Superman smiled. "You really don't have to call me 'sir.'"

* * *

"Let's see, _Unforgiven_, _Dirty Harry_, _The Outlaw Josey Wales_, _A Fistful of Dollars_." Flash sighed. "Seems you have a one-track mind, Vigilante."

"Aw, shucks, Flash, you sayin' Clint Eastwood ain't worth collecting?"

"Hey, a good movie's a good movie," Flash replied. "What are you feeling, Shining Knight?"

"I know not the player nor the movies," Shining Knight stated. Rather sheepishly, he added "I don't get out much."

Flash chuckled. "Go figure," he said, continuing to flip through Vigilante's DVD collection.

"I want to thank you again, partner," Vigilante started, "I was right worried I'd be headin' back down to Earth." He picked up his guitar and strummed it a bit. "But you guys really pulled through."

"Hey, we're the League, it's what we do," Flash replied, smiling.

Nodding, Vigilante, who never thought the League would actually allow him to join, replied, "That's what I like to hear."


	9. Dedication

**This chapter was not initially planned. Following the death of my father last November, though, I felt the need to write this. While not planned, I thought the chapter came out well for what I was trying to do. I know it's not the most exciting I've written, but insofar as I'm concerned, it accomplished it's goals.**

**Please let me know what you thought via review/PM should you wish. The next chapter will be business as usual.**

**I do not own any DCAU characters, nor the rights to any of the music mentioned.**

**For what it's worth, I dedicate this chapter to my father, 1956 - 2015.**

* * *

Something was wrong - or seemed wrong, anyway - with Ray.

At first, few were concerned - a week had passed since Superman's speech, they hardly knew him, and his standoffish attitude could just have been the way he was. Elongated Man wasn't convinced. Alone, though, he didn't know what he could do. After Ray blew up at Wildcat during training, along with almost getting into an altercation with Vibe, the number of those concerned grew.

In the commissary, a group of five heroes spoke their worries and their thoughts, prompted by Elongated Man, or as people around the Watchtower were getting accustomed to calling him, Ralph.

"That first day, he was just fine," Ralph told the group before him. "Something must have happened. He did a complete 180. I barely see him eating anymore."

"And I heard," Stargirl added, "that he asked to be taken off active duty."

"Has anyone actually tried talking to him," Hourman asked, a slight upturn on his lips. "You know, to ask him? It might be better than gossiping behind his back."

"We saw were that got Vibe," Atom-Smasher said. "I know the kid's a bit of a hot-head, but I think he meant well. And Ray just blew up at him."

"I think Hourman's right," Stargirl offered. "We won't get anywhere just talking about it. I mean, we're not detectives. We have to talk _to _him."

Before Ralph could reply that he in fact _was _a detective, Ice, normally quiet when not around Fire (who was currently on a mission) spoke up. "Perhaps it's none of our business, though," her voice timid.

"He's our teammate," Ralph said. "If there's something going on, if he's going through something, we have the duty to try and help him."

"If he even wants help," Atom-Smasher mumbled.

"True, but that's a risk I'm perfectly willing to take," Ralph replied.

Just then, a voice rang out, J'onn's voice, from the intercom system.

"Green Arrow, Elongated Man, Atom, and Ice please report to the bridge."

Ralph sighed. "We'll pick this back up later," he stated, eying Ice. "Be back soon, I hope."

"I should probably get back to Pat myself," Stargirl admitted. "So he doesn't freak that I've been gone too long, you know."

"Sure thing," Atom-Smasher replied, his tone conciliatory. "See you later, kid."

She stuck out her tongue at being called a kid, but otherwise left without issue.

"Dude, let's go talk to Ray," Hourman said, looking across the table at his friend, after the others had left. "Remember when Sand was going through that depression a few years back? If we weren't there for him, who knows what could have happened? I don't know if this is the same thing, but Ralph's right; we have a responsibility to find out."

"Butting into someone's personal life isn't something I'm comfortable with, Rick," Atom-Smasher replied, rubbing his forehead through his mask, "but fine, let's go."

Silently, the pair exited the commissary, both in thought, as they walked toward the general direction of Ray's room.

* * *

_And it took me so long_

_Yeah, it took me so long_

_Yeah, it took me so long_

_To find myself_

_And it took me so long_

_Yeah, it took me so long_

_Yeah, it took me so long_

_To find myself_

_Someone to talk to_

Hourman looked to Atom-Smasher, who shrugged at the music coming through the door. "At least it's not country."

Rick smiled. "True, Al. True."

He knocked loudly on the door three times. The music stopped with the first knock, and seconds later, the door slid open.

A stoic expression on his face, his helmet askew, Ray tonelessly asked, "How can I help you?"

"We were just wondering how you were doing," Atom-Smasher bluntly asked. "You blew your stack at Vibe, which is understandable, but then Wildcat? Just wanted to check up on you."

"I'm fine," Ray quickly replied. "Thank you for your concern," he mechanically added.

"You sure, man," Hourman inquired. "'Cause if not, you can always-"

"I told you I'm fine," Ray heatedly restated insistently. "Anything else I can do for you two?"

Atom-Smasher sighed. "No. Have a good day."

Once the door shut, the pair walked away just as they came - silently. Had they stood around a second longer, they made have heard both the sound of a muffled cry, mixture of both sadness and anger, along with the continuation of the same melodic rock song that was playing when they reached his room.

* * *

Blood was lightly pouring from Ray's palm that night, as he forced himself to unclench his right fist. With his left hand, he straightened out a waste basket he had just kicked in, and quietly muttered to himself. "Things seem so different now in my life."

He went to the restroom and ran his hand under cold tap water until he felt a numbing throb. Looking into the mirror, at his unshaven face and tired eyes, Ray cursed under his breath.

Ray knew perfectly well how this night was likely to go, but that did little to comfort him.

"You can't fight the inevitable, though," he again spoke aloud. Ray shook his head, trying to banish the memories from his mind he knew he couldn't. Again, inevitable.

His jaw tight, he turned from the mirror and went back to his room. His stomach grumbled, but Ray ignored it. Instead, he laid on his bed, beforehand setting to play "Someone to Talk To" once more from his computer.

He didn't cry; not then. It was only twenty past eight - that would undoubtedly come later. But an indescribable pain again struck him. An anger so deep that when he heard a knock on his door, Ray audibly growled.

"What can I do for you," he said before the door fully slid open. Speedy and Hourman stood there, a resolute look on both their faces.

"Listen, can we come in," Speedy asked, his voice lacking the patience he meant to show. "Please," he further urged. "We'll be quick."

Ray took a deep sigh, but then nodded his head. "Sure thing," he replied, moving out of the door frame.

The door slid shut, and Ray looked up at Speedy. "How can I help?"

"Okay, listen, Ray," Hourman began, slumping into a chair the opposite side of the bed, "I understand that you may a more introverted person. That's fine. And I know we don't have any business asking you, but again, are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine," Ray again replied, toneless. "I told you-"

"Damn it," Speedy broke in. "You're obviously not fine, dude. Ralph and Courtney are really worried."

"Courtney," Ray asked, confused.

"Stargirl," Speedy answered. "Not to mention a few others. If it's something that you want to take on alone, then fine. But some of us feel obligated to help if we can."

A few seconds of silence fell upon the room. "I don't know how to reply," Ray replied, "but it's something I need to go through myself."

"But do you want to," Hourman asked gently.

"Screw you," Ray shouted, his aggravation clear. "Just leave me alone. I told you, I'm fine. Just take that answer and go."

"Hey," Speedy replied, a definite edge to his voice, "we're trying to be nice. You don't shout at teammate when they're just trying to help you out, Ray."

Again, silence enshrouded the room. "My father died," Ray spoke in a pained voice. With fury, he punched the wall. "My father died."

* * *

"It happened a few days after Superman's speech," Ray said 20 minutes later, sitting down on his bed, his bandaged hand on his head. "Cancer. Because he smoked. He promised to quit, but could never get himself to do it."

"Why didn't you say anything," Speedy softly asked. "You could have told someone."

"When I told Wonder Woman I wanted to be off active duty for a bit, she didn't prod. Because we just got started, she just assumed I needed time to adjust or something. So she didn't really ask. And I didn't know anyone here, really."

"You knew me and Ralph," Speedy replied, while Hourman nodded to his side.

"Not really," Ray shook his head, moving his hand up to the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes. "My mother isn't talking about it. It's business as usual for her. She's never really been an openly emotional person."

"And you're having a hard time with that," Hourman stated, more as a fact than an inquiry.

"He and I used to joke about who would go first, my dad with his smoking or my mother with her work habits," Ray managed, his voice light. "I guess we know."

"I take it this song," Speedy began, nodding toward the computer's speakers, playing a melodic rock song lightly, "reminds you of him? A coping mechanism? What?"

"I honestly don't know," Ray admitted, looking up. "I guess it's that song I was listening to when it hit me. The realization that I'd never see him again and he'd never see me get married or-" Ray stopped, his voice choked up, tears forming in this corner of his eyes. "It's a feeling I can't describe, and I hope you never have to go through it."

"Sooner or later, we will," Hourman said. "My father turned 69 last month. Even under the best conditions, I don't think he'll be reaching 80."

"I never knew my father," Speedy added. "I was raised by a single mother. I didn't even know having a father was normal until preschool," he finished with a half-hearted chuckle. "I guess Ollie filled that roll most of my life."

"Listen, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do," Ray began, wiping away the tears as nonchalantly as possible, "but you can't do anything. I - I just need to try to move forward."

"It won't happen without friends," Speedy replied, his voice soft. "I'm sorry, but it won't. You'll just sit in your room all day thinking about him, that damn song playing on repeat. It won't do you any good, especially if you want to try and move on."

Ray offered a weak smile. "What is your suggestion, then? I can't go back to active duty, not right now. Not this soon."

"No," Hourman agreed, "but you can wash up and then come out to eat with us. Hell, you don't want commissary food? Let's go down to Earth and eat there."

A feeble laugh from Ray followed. "I guess I could do that."

"Okay then," Hourman proclaimed, a smile on his face, "I'll go round up some people while you shower and shave. I know you probably don't want a big group, but at the very least, Ralph and Al should be invited."

Giving up, Ray sighed. "Al?"

"Oh, Atom-Smasher," Hourman replied. "You know, the guy who I came here earlier with. He's not big on emotional conversation, if it wasn't obvious, but it's probably more a cover. I know I saw him cry at the end of a Judging Amy episode, and not just one."

Speedy grinned at this, then looked over at Ray. "Mind if a few others come along? Courtney, her stepdad. Ollie, even?"

Another sigh escaped from Ray. "Fine, but could we cap it at that, though? I don't want the whole League down at St. Elmo Steak House."

With that, Speedy and Hourman left the room to corral the invited members. Ray couldn't believe it; though not substantial, he felt lighter, better. More optimistic. Another weak smile on his face, he stood up. _Maybe, just maybe_, Ray considered, _this is step one to getting my life back on track._ With that thought in mind, he ambled to the bathroom to shower.

* * *

"He didn't want to eat in the commissary, which I understand fully," Speedy stated, looking at Green Arrow, STRIPE, and Stargirl. "And we can't just go in our costumes. Ray doesn't want the attention anyways. He just wants a low-key dinner among friends."

Green Arrow nodded. "I don't have any problem with the idea," he admitted, "but isn't there something in the manual about sharing your identities with half the League?"

"You guys aren't going to know Atom-Smasher from Jack," STRIPE said. "If he wants a low-key dinner, we can do that. As far as I'm concerned, protocol doesn't matter here. If Ralph doesn't have any problem with us knowing who he is, then I don't either." Opening up his suit, a middle-aged, red-haired man came out. His palm calloused, he shook Speedy's hand. "I'm Pat Dugan. Pleased to meet you."

Smiling, both Green Arrow and Speedy removed their minuscule masks, followed swiftly by Stargirl. Seeing each other without their masks for the first time, the group stared at each other. Pat, grinning, motioned to the door. "Let's see if Hourman got Atom-Smasher yet. I'm starved."

* * *

From a reserved room at Indianapolis' St. Elmo Steak House, the sounds of a jovial occasion escaped to the hallways, though the waiters disturbed the room only to refill their water or refresh their beers.

"Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport," Patrick Dugan exclaimed, laughing loudly. "I haven't heard that song since I was a kid."

"Yeah, well," Ray replied, bracingly, "my father was always listening to that. Three Dog Night, Beach Boys, Billy Joel. All his-"

"Piano Man' was a good tune," Ralph replied wistfully.

"More 'We Didn't Start the Fire' and 'Only the Good Die Young,'" Ray amended, shrugging. "He'd sometimes sing along, but it was so God-awful."

"So a lesson to you kids," Ollie stated, looking at Courtney, Al, Rick, and Roy, "you want to sing to your favorite songs at 50, don't smoke, or your throat will be all scratched up."

Courtney rolled her eyes, but Rick and Al laughed, while Roy took another sip of his Merlot, a slight grin on his lips.

"You guys ever hear 'Ringo,' Ray suddenly asked. "You know, 'He lay face down in the desert sand.' That song?"

Ollie nodded his head, but before he could speak, Roy butted in. "You know, you're really showing your age tonight," Ollie's ex-partner said with a grin.

"Why, I oughta-"

"Who was that," Pat inquired. "Johnny Horton, right?"

"I don't know any of these names at all," Courtney whispered to Al, who grinned back. "Like, were these big singers?"

"Well before our time," Al replied. To Pat, he said, "I'm pretty sure that wasn't Horton. It doesn't seem right."

"Al's right," Ralph said, a frown on his face, in deep thought. "Horton sang 'Sink the Bismarck,' 'Battle of New Orleans,' and 'North to Alaska,', but he didn't do 'Ringo.'"

"It was Lorne Greene, wasn't it," Rick spoke up, lowering his salmon, as it was still hot, from his mouth.

"Lorne Greene," Ralph, Pat, and Ollie all said in unison. Those under the age of 35 all laughed.

"I was born '72," Ray stated. "I'm 30. I've never felt younger than right now, with you old-timers here."

Pat drew his left hand through his hair. "That hurt, man." Courtney snickered.

"You know what song I hadn't heard in ages, but caught yesterday on a classic country station," Ralph asked the table, looking around. After no guess came, he stated, "Harper Valley PTA."

"Oh, wow," Pat replied. "That's a blast from the past. Wasn't as great as 'Ode to Billie Joe,' but that song was pretty good."

"Completely different styles," Rick stated, shaking his head. "'Ode to Billie Joe' was intentionally depressing. I think both were excellent in their respective genres."

Pat and Ollie eyed him strangely. "You're what, 35 at most," Pat asked. "And yet, you remember more about these songs than Ralph does."

"Not having Alzheimer's helps," Rick replied, causing a outburst of cackling.

"I resent that, kid," Ralph replied sternly, though he wore a grin. "As it so happens, 'Ode to Billie Joe' was never a favorite of mine. I always get caught up on wondering what she and Billie Joe threw off the bridge."

"I feel like we're in Reservoir Dogs," Al stated with a groan, putting his head in his hands.

"I'm not familiar with the reference," Pat stated, sipping his Miller Lite.

"Wow, I wonder what that must feel like," Courtney loudly proclaimed, the sarcasm heavy. Another fresh bout of laughter began. "Hey guys," Courtney continued, piling on to her previous statement, "what do you think of 'Graduation (Friends Forever)'? Overly tacky or is it sentimental enough to be a decent song?"

"Well, that song's pretty sh-" Ray began, but then stopped himself, hastily gulping down some of his beer. "I mean, pretty bad."

"The singing is so flat," Al added, grinning at the consternation on the faces of Ralph, Pat and Ollie. "And Vitamin C? What's up with that name?"

"Okay, okay, we get it," Ollie shouted over the new laughter, throwing his arms up. "We're old-timers, we know."

"Oh God," Roy said, with a snicker. "If the music you guys listen to is old, what the heck does Wildcat jam to?"

Pat, trying to hide his smile, replied. "Duke Ellington," he offered.

While Ray chuckled at this reply, he realized that, despite all that's happened in his life this past week, for all intent and purposes, he was doing just fine tonight. His smile was genuine, and when he considered it, that's really all that mattered right now.

* * *

The dinner was nice. What was nicer still was Ollie picking up the whole check. Ray felt slightly off - as though the happiness he was feeling wasn't proper of the situation. Still, he didn't let it keep him from having fun. Though only slightly intoxicated, he allowed Al and Pat to help him to his room once they got back up to the Watchtower.

After saying goodnight to them all, Ray sat on his bed, hoping the positive feeling encapsulated in his chest wouldn't soon dissipate, but knew that it likely would. But before that could happen, a knock, for the third time that day, came on his door. Sluggishly, Ray stood up and opened in.

"Hey, me and Pat were talking," Ralph stated, coming into the room once Ray moved out of the way. "If you weren't against it, would you mind if some of us came to your father's funeral?"

Ray deeply sighed at this question. "It's planned for August 28th. Our Lady of Peace Cemetery, in Indianapolis. Noon. Yeah, you guys can come by if you want."

Looking critically at Ray, Ralph said, "Do you know the name Jackson C. Frank?"

"I do not," Ray admitted, shaking his head.

"Not many do. He was a folk singer back in the 1960's. Only released one album, and afterwards, was down on his luck for the rest of his life. I mean, his life wasn't going well whatsoever. People argue if it was due to schizophrenia or depression, but whatever it was, when he died a few years back, he was just a shadow of his former shelf. All this said, he went on to influence Simon &amp; Garfunkel, Nick Drake, and my personal favorite, Paul Simon's solo work. The point is, this man influenced a lot of people, yet people barely know his name. My biggest fear, between you and me, is that when it comes my time, the only people who will notice will be my family. I don't help people to get noticed - I think the only one of us who does that is Booster Gold," he made a face before continuing. "Even so, I would hope that some of the people I've helped throughout my life would look back fondly on me. Going through life and ending it unnoticed just isn't right. You know Thomas Paine? Only six people went to his funeral because of all the controversial stuff he wrote."

Ray couldn't help but grin. "My father's not Thomas Paine."

"No, but he's the father of one of the members of the Justice League, and he deserves our deepest respect for that alone," Ralph solemnly replied. "I won't make a big deal out of it, but I think I'll pass along the word of your father's funeral, if that's okay. Make sure that come the 28th, you father gets the going-away gift that he's owed."

"I-," Ray began, but sniffing in some tears. "Thank you, Ralph."

"You want to go out again, do something fun, you let me know. Or Speedy. Or Pat. We're here for you, pal." With a pat on Ray's back, Ralph left. Ray, in disbelief, fell asleep that night peacefully.

* * *

Weeks later, while he was giving an eulogy for his father, Ray caught the supportive glances of Ralph and Pat. Pat's step-daughter, Courtney, stood there in her dark dress, her necklace occasionally reflecting sunlight into Ray's eyes. To her left, Rick, Al, and a few more faces stood out. And so Ray carried on with the eulogy, lighter in his heart.

It was the burial that blew him away. His father had many friends, most of whom were able to show up. But he didn't have as many as who came. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw over 40 faces that he was positive came not because they knew his father, but because they were Justice League members. He saw that Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, a red-haired, younger man, a complete stranger, his face very straight, and an individual who looked suspiciously like Superman, were it not for the pair of glasses he wore, stood in front of the gathering. He looked into Wonder Woman's eyes, and she gave him a curt nod, with a smile.

And with that, Garry Terrill, was interred into the ground, a crowd of over 100 there to watch the procession. As Ray reflected privately on his father's life, his past, he also couldn't help but, when looking at Ralph, Courtney, and Al mingling with the friends of his father as though they too long knew him, think about his future. Pat spoke briefly to him earlier. He said that while his father was gone, as long as he kept his father close to his heart, and his friends close to his side, he won't become forgotten.

Ray initially scoffed lightly at those words, though knew the intent was good. But seeing the red-headed young man laughing with Wonder Woman and Green Lantern, who then noted his glance, wave him over, he couldn't help but agree completely with what Pat Dugan had told him.

He walked over to the three, already looking forward to the future. Just as his father would have wanted.


	10. The Hoback Assessment

**Author's Note:**

**From here on out, I am planning to release chapters of this story in weekly installments on Fridays. Should I not be posting a chapter on a specific Friday, I will let you know before hand.**

**Note: There's a reference in this chapter to the funeral of Ray's father in the future tense. This is because this chapter happens only days after the dinner between Ray and company, and the funeral has not yet happened.**

**As always, I enjoy reviews and/or PM's should you have any criticism, praise, or questions. Whatever be the issue, let me know.**

**None of the characters are owned by myself.**

* * *

"Is this 'cause of the prank," Flash's carping tone inquired.

J'onn J'onzz shook his head. "We have members who we have not seen in action, Flash. This is an opportunity to see how they can work together, despite their differences."

"Yeah, sure," Flash replied, sounding unconcerned, "but Wyoming?"

"A bank in Wyoming was robbed 25 minutes ago. Sending down a team to apprehend those responsible strikes me as a fair way to test how these members would work together."

"I still say this is about the prank," Flash grumbled.

"This is important, and I wouldn't flatter yourself," J'onn added with a small grin, "rigging buckets to drop water on you is _so_ last year, as Supergirl would say."

"And I take it I am not to interfere?"

J'onn nodded. "Just observe and assess. We'll await your findings once you return."

Flash sighed. "Let's get this show on the road, then."

The intercom rang out, and in a loud voice, J'onn announced, "Crimson Fox, Red Tornado, Question, Shining Knight, and Stargirl, report to the bridge. I repeat, Crimson Fox, Red Tornado, Question, Shining Knight, and Stargirl, report to the bridge."

As soon as the intercom turned off, Flash said, "Question? This is so punishment."

Before J'onn could scold further, a red whirlwind came up to the two, followed by a rather large robot suit and a perky, staff-wielding girl.

"Red Tornado, reporting for duty," the now-calming whirlwind announced, his voice clinical and hollow.

"Same here," STRIPE added, standing next to Red Tornado.

J'onn looked curiously at STRIPE. "You were not among the names I called."

"Yeah, but if Courtney's going along, I thought-"

"I'm sorry, STRIPE, but this mission is partly about trust. Stargirl won't always have you beside her on missions, and you won't always have her. We must learn to trust each other - all of us."

STRIPE stood silent at this, and Red Tornado turned to him.

"I will make sure she is unharmed, friend," the android said, holding his right hand out to STRIPE. "I give you my word."

As STRIPE, with only a moment of hesitation, took it, both Shining Knight and Crimson Fox joined the small grouping.

"Oh, iz 'e coming along," Crimson Fox asked J'onn, her French accent piqued in curiosity.

"No, no," STRIPE replied, "just checking in to see if any additional help is needed."

"Don't worry, Pat," Stargirl spoke up. "I'll be fine, I promise," she stressed, the annoyance she felt close to the surface of her words.

STRIPE nodded and began walking away, passing Question, who came up to the group, hands in his pockets.

The ragtag group looked around at each other awkwardly. Flash noted that Shining Knight was looking skeptically at Question, and Crimson Fox eyed Stargirl in an almost distasteful manner.

_This should be a blast_, Flash sarcastically considered.

"Hark! The mission at hand is what," Shining Knight inquired.

"30 minutes ago, the Rocky Mountain Bank, in Hoback, Wyoming, was robbed of 60 thousand dollars by three men, armed with handguns. Local authorities place them somewhere in the surrounding forests. Though no one was killed, three are wounded. You will be responsible for apprehending these men before they can cause anyone else harm."

"And 'e iz what, our babysitter," Crimson Fox asked, thumbing at Flash.

Flash was about to reply when J'onn cut in.

"Flash will be overseeing you, yes. He is your superior, though, so I may advise you demonstrate a bit more respect, Crimson Fox."

She bit her lip and docilely nodded. "Sorry, sir."

"Are there any additional question," J'onn asked.

The group stood silent.

"I guess it's go-time, then, guys," Flash spoke up, his tone lacking the enthusiasm of his words. With a nod of the head to J'onn, he led the mismatched group to the teleportation platform.

* * *

As soon as they touched Wyoming soil, conflict broke out.

"We should make contact with the local authorities," Red Tornado stated. "We need to see if they have any additional leads."

"Why not just fly overhead and see if we can spot them that way," Stargirl counter-proposed. "That way, they wouldn't have a chance to get any further."

"And the police may not know anything new," Crimson Fox added, "so it might be a waste ov time."

"I say thee nay," Shining Knight shook his head. "If thou doth blind thyself to the knowledge possessed by the authorities, thou doth condemn us to failure."

"Come ov it," Crimson Fox fired back, rolling her eyes. By this point, Flash has leaned against a nearby tree, his face unimpressed with the scene before his eyes. "We don't know if the police know anything we don't."

"We could know, however, if we ask," Red Tornado, with a slight edge in his voice, replied. "More so, look at this forest," he added, "do you really think you'll be able to see _anything _through the canopy?"

Stargirl spoke up again. "Guys, how about you," directed at Red Tornado, "and Shining Knight go to the police. Me and Crimson Fox can look for them overhead ourselves."

"Are we allowed to do that," Red Tornado inquired, looking over at Flash.

The Scarlet Speedster yawned. "I gotta admit, I don't know. I'm far more curious where Question ran off to."

Everyone groaned.

"Doing great so far," Stargirl quipped under her breath.

* * *

"Were Vigilante here, indecisiveness would not strike discord into the team," Shining Knight stated to both Flash and Crimson Fox, as they walked toward central Hoback. "Instead of quibbling, we'd be making progress."

They had split off from Red Tornado and Stargirl with the hopes of meeting up with the local authorities. Red Tornado, despite his opposition to Stargirl's plan, went with her to scan the area, for as far as Flash could see, two reasons: 1) his promise to STRIPE, and 2) the fact that he could fly, whereas Crimson Fox couldn't.

"You really think highly of Vigilante, don't ya," Flash asked, while Crimson Fox grumbled quietly to his other side.

"Aye, truth," Shining Knight confirmed. "A better ally could not be found."

"And he has a fantastic television set," Flash added, thinking _Sheesh, if we had kicked Vigilante out of the League, who would Shining Knight be palling around with?_

Haughtily, Crimson Fox said, "The fact that you care more about a television set more than solving this crime iz just sad."

"Hey, I'm not supposed to even be talking to you guys," Flash criticized back, his voice rising. "If I were doing what I'm supposed to, I'd just be watching over you guys quietly, like I'm Batman or something. This isn't my crime to solve. It's yours, and so far, I'm not impressed whatsoever with how you guys have been doing."

An awkward silence followed this as they walked onward.

"Okay, listen guys, I'm sorry," Flash said, truly sounding it. "I have no idea where Question went, and I really don't think either Stargirl's plan or your plan, Shining Knight, will get us what we need. That all being said, bank robberies were never really something the Justice League got involved in. Heck, in Central City, I have it easy most of the time. I just need to go to a single bar, and bam, I get most of the answers I need."

"So in short," Crimson Fox asked, "it haz been a stressful day?"

"Yep," Flash replied. "This is out of my element too. Believe me. But I trust that you guys will be able to handle this. So does J'onn, or he wouldn't have sent us down here."

"Hark! The authorities are just ahead," Shining Knight proclaimed, pointing forward at a parked cruiser.

Flash crossed his fingers as the group walked up to the car. Under his breath, he muttered, "Wish us luck."

* * *

"Ya know, Pat was just being melodramatic," Stargirl said conversationally to the whirlwind flying beside her. "I really don't need anyone watching over me to make sure I'm okay."

"People often say the phrase 'better safe than sorry,' do they not," Red Tornado replied, seeing nothing in the area aside from trees, bushes, and more trees.

"Yeah, well, those people have no fun," Stargirl dismissively stated. "Pat's great, don't get me wrong, but I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm pretty sure I can take care of myself."

"If he let you go, and you ended up hurting yourself somehow, he'd never stop feeling guilty."

"That doesn't make any sense," Stargirl whined, simultaneously enthralled with the size of the forest below them, "if I asked him to give me some space, and I got hurt, it'd be my fault. Why'd he blame himself?"

"Because that's what parents do," Red Tornado wisely replied. "Logic, more often than not, plays no part."

Stargirl remained silent at this. "I'll say one thing for ya, Tornado," she eventually said after a few moments of silence, "you're right, this is getting us nowhere."

Red Tornado nodded, and the pair of them turned around. After half a minute, he replied, his voice sounding much more human, "Told you so."

Despite the annoyance at being proven wrong, the teen girl couldn't help but grin ever so slightly.

* * *

Before Stargirl even landed, she sensed a tense atmosphere among the three heroes. Crimson Fox seemed particularly displeased.

"Waz a waste of time," Crimson Fox moaned bluntly to Stargirl. "Like we thought."

"'Twas not a complete waste of-" Shining Knight began, but was cut off by Flash.

"It really was, buddy," Flash patted him on the back. Looking at the new arrivals, Flash added, "The police have no information that we don't. They just suspect the three perps are somewhere here," holding his arms out to the forest. "What's next, guys?"

"Well, we didn't see anything overhead," Stargirl admitted, "so I, well..."

She trailed off. The message was clear, though - she had no idea how to move forward.

"This iz stupid. 'ave none ov us ever solved a crime," Crimson Fox lamented.

"Well, it's not been great so far, I admit," Flash said, "but c'mon guys, use your heads. Bank robbers are in the area. Potentially a danger to anyone who runs across them. You can do this. What's next?"

"Where is Question," Red Tornado suddenly spoke up.

At this, everyone shrugged. "I hate to say it," Flash replied, "but I think he's a lost cause. Personally, between me and you, he didn't really seem like a team player. I think this sort of cinches it."

A voice spoke up, making all of them jump.

"The three men, Abraham Warren, Dwayne Burton, and Kent Patterson are holed up in a wooden shack near Snake River. Apparently, if we go down West Johnny Counts Road until we hit Hoback Junction South Road, it should be pretty easy to find."

The group stood silent at this proclamation as Question strolled out from behind a nearby tree, until Flash replied, "Seriously, dude?"

"I saw a light boot print outside of the bank, which matched three pairs of boots recently sold up at Jackson. One of them, the owner knew, being Dwayne Burton. The other two were strangers, and, according to Burton, 'from out of town.' Digging into Burton a little, it turns out his wife left him last year, and as the story goes, he started drinking heavily, getting him fired from Snake River Sporting Club, about seven minutes south of Hoback. The other two men, it appears, worked with Dwayne in the past, committing robberies across Wyoming from 1992 to 1996. I got Warren's name from an arrest record back in '96, and a common acquaintance of his was Patterson, who had done some time for larceny. Neither Patterson nor Warren have been heard from in over a year, though authorities around these parts are occasionally on the lookout. The Teton County Sheriff is new, and when I inquired about these names, he knew none of them. Long story short, Red Tornado and Stargirl can fly over there in four minutes and take them out, probably without much problem."

Stargirl, her mouth agape during Question's explanation, promptly shut it and shook her head. "No way."

"Marry," exclaimed Shining Knight, his face in deep shock.

"Well," Flash replied, regaining some of his composure that dissipated during Question's explanation, "that certainly sounds like a lead we can follow."

* * *

As Question had guessed, the three men were easy to deal with. From Flash's point of view, it was well over before it began.

"And stay down," Crimson Fox yelled at one of the men, her foot on his back. Red Tornado and Shining Knight kept close watch of them, while Stargirl walked out of the shack, announcing that the money seems all to be accounted for.

Question stood at the edge of Snake River, watching the steady stream of the water and debris flow by, apparently in silent contemplation.

"Well, the Teton County police will be here in half an hour. We just need to stay put until then," Flash replied, with a sigh. "I guess, well done, guys."

Unexpectedly, Stargirl stomped her right foot on the ground and began crying.

"I can't believe we were so," she started, angrily wiping the new tears from her eyes, "ineffective."

"Hey, walk with me," Flash said, motioning for her to follow him. She did, all the while still attempting to dry her eyes. Once away from the others, he turned toward her. "Listen, we found those responsible and got back the money. Maybe not how we hoped we would, but it still got done. That's what's important."

"But," Stargirl replied, clearly bothered, "it all came down to one guy. Not us, not a team. One guy."

"I know, which I think is a lesson for both sides here," Flash replied. "Look, you, Crimson Fox, Shining Knight and Red Tornado couldn't figure out how to move forward. That's fine, it happens. One of you guys knew, though. Question knew exactly what to look for, but instead of pulling you guys in, he went off solo. And instead of thinking about making contact with him, checking to see how he was doing, we just wrote him off. There's blame to go on both sides here, kid. Listen," he added, glancing over his shoulder at Question, who was still standing in front of the river, "I don't like Question. Not really. He's just too kooky for me, for lack of a better word. Plus, the whole faceless thing he's got going really freaks me out. It's not something I think that fosters a sense of camaraderie, as Superman would say. But that's part of why J'onn sent us down here - we have to learn to work together. Today was difficult, but there might come a time in which we need to go all out to save this planet. And if that means working with someone like Question, then we have to do it."

Stargirl looked over him, surprised, and expecting more, seemingly. At this, Flash chuckled. "That's my spiel. That's all I've got. Let's just try to work together as best we can, and show the skeptics it can be done."

The young girl sighed, her eyes still red, but drying. "Thanks for that. I'll try to keep it all in perspective, I guess."

"That's all I'm asking," Flash replied. "That's all I'm asking."

* * *

"You know, dude," Flash spoke up, standing next to Question on the banks of Snake River, "you could have told us you had an idea. Because we didn't work together, some of us are feeling really dispirited."

"You guys don't trust me," Question replied simply, not turning toward his superior. "I heard what you said. 'I think he's a lost cause.' Shining Knight doesn't like me. Stargirl's uneasy around me. With that all in mind, it would have been quicker to handle this myself, which I did. That's the extent to it."

"You ever think people would trust you more if you actually bothered speaking to us," Flash couldn't help but ask. "I mean, that could only help, right?"

"Do you know the Bilderberg Group," Question inquired.

At this, Flash sighed. "No. Who are they?"

"It's an annual meeting of over 100 elites from both North America and Europe, experts in their respective industries, who come together to promote cooperation between the two continents, and more recently, try and spread the idea of Western free market ideals throughout the world. There are some who believe this group has intentions most sinister. Some believe them to be working toward a one-world government, others, that they are planning on forcing capitalism throughout the world. People who believe this are called crackpot conspiracy theorists."

"What do you believe," Flash asked, his voice betraying the fact he didn't see the point.

"I believe in the truth," Question replied. "And the truth is far more sinister than what even those 'crackpots' believe."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with-"

"Based on the little you know about the Bilderberg Group, would you be inclined to say that they are a negative force in this world?"

"I'd need to read up on them a bit, but that sounds a bit far-fetched."

"Exactly," Question stated. "Even the most mundane of alternate beliefs on the world we live in seems 'far-fetched' to you. What I know to be true is far more than mundane."

"So you don't relate to us. That's fine," Flash replied. "That doesn't mean you can't trust us."

"I don't trust anyone," Question replied, finally turning to face Flash. "I will work with you, and I think I can help you guys out, but I cannot trust you. This bothers people. Shining Knight wouldn't be able to grasp it. Stargirl certainly wouldn't understand. Unsettling and unconventional. A crockpot. A lost cause. People can think of me what they want, I've heard it all. My one objective is to get to the truth. As long as the League does that also, there won't be a problem."

Exhaling loudly, Flash shook his head. "I'm sorry you see it that way, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I said what I said. I hope, though, that in time, that can change."

Turning back to Snake River, Question stood silent. Flash, feeling dismissed, made to leave, but Question then spoke up again. "Time will tell."

_I think that's as good as it's gonna get_, Flash considered, and left Question alone on the bank.

* * *

"How did it go," Superman asked Flash, who stood before the senior members, fidgeting.

"Well, there's good news and bad news," Flash began. "What did you guys want first?"

Batman put his head in his hands and Green Lantern groaned. "Wally," Wonder Woman said, "were you guys able to apprehend the culprits?"

"We were, yes," Flash replied. "But, well, to be completely honest, Question did most of the work."

Before anyone could say anything, Flash went on. "Shining Knight and Red Tornado put too much faith in the local authorities, while Stargirl and Crimson Fox thought it best to track them down just by looking around. Question left the group about as soon as we got there, but was able to identify the three robbers, and determine their location. He came back to let us know, and as a group, we took them down."

"I must admit, I am not terribly shocked," J'onn began, "but where they all able to work together, save Question?"

"Red Tornado and Stargirl clashed a bit," Flash recounted, "but I think they made up. Shining Knight and Crimson Fox don't see eye-to-eye, so some work may need to be done there."

"Speaking of Stargirl, on a sidenote" Wonder Woman spoke up, "have you all heard about the 28th? The funeral of Ray's father? Ralph, STRIPE and Stargirl were considering getting some League members to go to it."

"I can't come," Batman swiftly replied. "Bruce Wayne showing up would have too many people asking questions. I support the solidarity shown by attending, though. I'll talk to Ray afterwards," he added, seeing the look both Wonder Woman and Flash was giving him.

"Hopefully, everyone else can attend," J'onn stated. "More so, we may want to thank Stargirl, Elongated Man, STRIPE, Atom-Smasher, Speedy, and Hourman for helping Ray through this difficult time officially. I suggest, though," he continued, "we save that discussion for later. Insofar as today went, Flash, do you have any additional thoughts?"

"Just this," the younger man replied, "Question is very aware of how some of us, myself included, feel about him. He doesn't trust us, any of us. I know we expected this, but I feel it's something we really should try and work on."

"Wally's right," Green Lantern stated. "I have no idea how on God's green Earth we gain his trust, but it's something we need to do."

"Indeed," J'onn replied. "That's something we can also discuss at a later date. Many thanks, Flash, for overseeing this mission."

Flash nodded. "Sure thing. Sorry I was making a big deal out of it earlier."

"It's understandable." J'onn glanced around the table of his peers as Flash, done with his presentation, sat down. "What's next on the table?"


	11. War and Peace

**While this has been mentioned before, I want to clarify it: This story is a point-of-departure from the Justice League Unlimited series. After the fourth episode, Hawk and Dove, things change. Because of this, the first four episodes are canonical. This chapter takes place after the episode 'Hawk and Dove.' In my timeline, I'd say this takes place on December 2, 2002, as evidenced by the hockey game.**

**I was supposed to get this chapter out yesterday. Due to some poor planning on my part, that didn't happen, so I apologize.**

**Should you have any questions or comments, feel free to review or send me a personal message.**

**I do now own any DCAU characters.**

* * *

While immediately after it happened, Hank blew it off, the severity of the event struck him hours later after they had gotten back to the Watchtower.

_Don could have died._

That thought both frightened and angered him.

_There he was, just standing in front of the damned Annihilator, refusing to fight back._ Hank now knew that the lack of conflict is what led to the defeat of the armor, but it didn't make the scene he still saw play out before his eyes, nor the thumping of his heart in that moment, any easier to quell.

_Don could have died._

And with that thought in mind, he marched out of room toward Don's, now furious.

* * *

Don wasn't surprised to see his brother arrive at his room - in fact, he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. Silently, Hank came into the room, tearing off his mask, though his anger having ebbed away while taking a seat on his brother's bed, not even giving a second glance to the tie-dye peace symbol poster on the opposite wall. His head in his hands, he uttered, sounding defeated, "You could have died. What were you thinking?"

"Ares was playing the Northerners and the Southerners against each other," Don replied calmly, removing his mask also once the door slid shut, "Wonder Woman realized that, and told me that suit was fueled by our rage. What would you have done, Hank?"

Hank didn't reply. Instead, he kept his head down. After a moment, he repeated, the pain obvious, "You could have died."

"Yes, I could have," Don agreed solemnly. "I didn't, though. And if it had a chance to stop the rampage, just a chance, it'd have been worth the risk."

"I simply don't understand," Hank admitted, looking up. "I don't get you at all. You're willing to risk your life for a bunch of animals who can't even maintain control over their own country."

"Hank, you know I don't see it that way," Don replied, his tone stern. "You know that. And you're willing to die for this country; is it so bizarre to consider that I would consider dying for another?"

"They're not your people, though," Hank heatedly answered.

"They are my people, Hank. Everyone is my 'people.' We're all in this together. And as Americans, we're no more worthy of a chance to live a good and decent life than the people of Kaznia."

Hank shook his head heavily at this, but held back his original reply. Instead, he went a different route.

"Did you ever once think about what I'd have to tell dad if you died?"

Taken aback, Don said, "Hank, listen: I think you're over analyzing this whole thing. Wonder Woman discovered what kept that thing fighting, and I did what I thought would stop it. As any member of the Justice League would have done."

"You're my brother before a Justice League member," Hank snarled back. "Damn it, Don. Are you saying that, in that moment, you weren't thinking about me or dad?"

"I was thinking about what was best for the people there, Hank," Don replied insistently. "And that includes you. You _saw _that Wonder Woman couldn't do anything against it. You didn't fare any better. If you guys kept going down that road, then that thing would have kept fighting, and then I'd have to be the one to talk to dad."

Both brothers remained silent for a moment, perhaps contemplating how such a conversation with their father would go. That would account for the pronounced frown growing on Hank's face, and the distant look behind Don's eyes.

"Hank, I'm not going to apologize for doing what was right. I shouldn't have to."

"I just wish you took my feelings more seriously," Hank stated. "I know I don't always show it, but I care for you."

"Then you have to try and respect my view of things," Don replied. "Which it seems like you never do."

At this, Hank scoffed. "As if you show my beliefs any respect."

"I respect that you have the right to believe what you want," Don clarified. "But respecting the right to have beliefs and respecting the beliefs themselves is not the same thing. How many times have you called me 'un-American' because I thought we should never have gone to Afghanistan?"

"And how many times have you called me-," Hank shot back, but stopped himself. After a heavy sigh, he said, "This isn't solving anything."

"Listen, if I did die in the field," Don began, holding up a hand when Hank was about to protest, "no, hear me out. If I ever did die in the field, and you had to talk to dad, know what I think? I think he'd understand."

Hank said nothing to this. And a few minutes passed before either of them said anything else.

"I don't know what I'd do if you died, Don," Hank said, the blunt honesty of his words evident. "I don't know if I could move forward."

"You remember when we started doing this, Hank? You remember what we were like? Two freshmen in college, brothers, but we couldn't stand to be around each other?"

Hank chuckled. "Yeah. You were flirting with a Peace Studies major, and I was making friends with the fellas on the football team. We all thought you were a pansy."

Don joined in with the chuckling. "And my friends all thought you were a neanderthal."

"Then dad was abducted," Hank said, the smile leaving his face. "And we went home in a panic."

"But we were able to work together. And that voice - that voice, gave us powers. We never found out what that voice was, did we?"

Hank shook his head. "We never did, but we didn't care. We were just amazed it worked."

"I guess the point I'm trying to make," Don gently replied, "is that we work together now. I know you care about me, and you know I care about you. That wasn't always true, as much as we'd like to think otherwise."

"But you still could have died today. And it's like you don't get how serious that is."

"Hank, I know you want to go over to Afghanistan. If it weren't for us joining the League, I know that's what you'd be aiming for after we graduated."

"So? We need to be over there," Hank replied, aggressively. "Does 9/11 not ring a bell?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Don shook his head. "I mean, you want to be over there because you think it's the right thing to do."

"Damn right it is."

"And you could die there. That's something that you're willing to risk."

It was Hank's turn to shake his head. "That's not the same thing, Don, and you know it. But just think about this a bit, will ya? I need to meet up with Commander Steel in a few." Standing up, he gave a weak smile to his brother. "I'll be by to talk to you later, so don't go to bed too early. Pansy."

Don grinned at this. "Wouldn't think of it, neanderthal." As Hank left the room, Don gave a deep sigh. He knew what he wanted, what he think he wanted, anyway. But getting to the point where he could tell his brother?

That point wasn't reaching him any time soon.

* * *

Mari, adorning a short, red dress, approached Green Lantern's room, a sly smile on her face. He acted all tough, but she was positive he had a soft side. And she was determined to get to know him well enough to see it.

A rapt knock on his door later, Green Lantern stood surprised at the sight of Vixen, especially at the sight of Vixen in as short a dress as she was wearing, which showed clearly on his face.

"Judas Priest," he uttered. Attempting to compose himself, he closed his eyes briefly. "Hello Vixen, what I can for you," he asked, his voice now calm.

"I have a reservation at Bouley's tonight," she began casually, "in Tribeca. If you get out of that costume of yours and find a jacket, you should accompy me. I think you'll find the experience rewarding."

"A jacket," Green Lantern replied skeptically. "Is this your way of asking me out?"

"As if it wasn't obvious," Mari replied, with a playful eye roll. "Porcini flan, Nantucket Blue Fin, Long Island duck, Prime New York Sirloin. You'll never feel better. Now find a jacket."

Green Lantern couldn't help but chuckle. "Listen, Vixen, I really appreciate the thought, but I'm in no position to afford any of that. No offense, but it's not gonna happen."

"I know the chef," Mari replied, her silky tone still present. "Believe me, it'll be fine." Leaning toward him, she whispered in his ear, "I saved his butt from a mugging once. We eat free."

Mari couldn't read Green Lantern's neutral face when she moved her head back. _Well_, she considered, _go big or go home._ "Listen, if you have a jacket, which I can't stress enough, I guarantee you'll have a good night."

Her brown eyes bored in Green Lantern's. Something had to give. And it did.

"Give me five minutes Vixen," Green Lantern replied, his voice gruff.

"You have three," Mari said with a smile. "Don't forget-"

"I know, I know," Green Lantern cut her off. "A jacket. I won't."

And with that, as Green Lantern slipped back into his room, Mari felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. _I did it_, she thought, almost amazed that she was able to get a date with him. _I did it_.

* * *

Cynthia wasn't sure what she wanted to do. But she was bored. And as fun as watching hockey with Aztek could be, she wasn't feeling it.

That, and despite over an hour so far into the game, neither the New Jersey Devils or the Philadelphia Flyers had scored a single goal.

"You see that guy there," Aztek suddenly spoke, pointing at one of the many individuals on the television screen. "That's Keith Primeau. After being traded by Hurricanes, he made the winning goal in one of the longest games in NHL history, against the Pittsburgh Penguins. Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. Man, what a nail-biter that was."

Though totally unenthused, Cynthia smiled back. _Well, at least he's passionate about this stuff_, her mind put forward. After stifling a sigh, she turned her head back to the television. And again, the puck was taken away by the other team at the end zone, and she groaned. "Hey, you mind if I sit out the rest of this game? Gotta be honest, sports aren't really my thing."

Aztek glanced her way, slight confusion on his face. "Sure, no problem. I get it - hockey's not for everyone. But I am glad you wanted to hang out. Next time, it's your pick on what to do."

She grinned at him. "Great. Have a good night, and try not to forget about dinner. I don't think potato chips and Fritos make up a healthy meal."

"Next commercial, I promise," he replied, turning back to the television. "You have a good night too."

Once out of the room, Cynthia sighed. Aztek was a nice enough guy, but the whole sports thing? It wasn't something that she thought she could ever dig. Looking around the hallway, she saw no one she knew, so she drifted away to the left.

_It's been three months since I joined, _she thought to herself, while blindly walking forward, _and I've meant some great people. But no one_\- she stopped her train of thought, ashamed of herself. _Wonder where Ralph is? _Cynthia looked over her shoulder, almost expecting to see him there. To no avail.

"Oof," she exclaimed, turning her head forward and seeing she bumped into Dove. "Sorry, dude."

"It's fine," he replied, his voice sounding rather detached.

She cocked her head. "You cool, Dove? I heard about what happened earlier. In that European country. Totally cool."

Dove laughed at this, appearing more lively. "Well, thanks. I was arguing with my brother over that little stunt earlier."

"Yeah, I can totally get that. He's your brother - of course he'd have problems with you almost dying," she said, shrugging. "I don't see why you'd be so surprised."

"Well, he usually isn't much the touchy-feely type."

"You don't say," Cynthia replied, a goofy grin on her face. "You don't seem particularly happy, though. Is it your brother?"

"I don't know," Dove stated, honesty pouring out. "I mean, it's been three months since we joined the League. And I still don't feel like I fit in. I mean, you guys are cool and all," he quickly said defensively. "But there seems to be a heavier emphasis on combat than I would have expected. Wildcat, for instance, certainly doesn't seem all that interested in resolving things without conflict."

Cynthia shrugged. "He was a boxer, so I think that sorta makes sense. About the other thing, you know, the fitting in problem, I mean, we're all different type of people. Believe me," she insisted, thinking back on Aztek, "there's a lot of types here. I've made a ton of friends since joining. You know Ralph? He's a totally cool dude."

"Sure, there are some good people here, no doubt," Dove replied. "I don't know Ralph, but Obsidian seemed like a nice guy. Sort of quiet, but that's fine. It's just-" he hesitated, searching for the right words, "something just feels off. I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"Well," Cynthia thought aloud, trailing off. "You sure you even want to be in the League? Or even a hero? I mean, it just sounds like you're going through some sort of identity crisis." Dove remained silent at this, and Cynthia pressed on. "Listen, keep this between you and me, okay?" Dove nodded. "You know what I want, what I really want, right now? Weed. I haven't had any in a while. And I'd just like to lie back and chill, smoking a bowl. I'm not happy with myself over that, but it is what I want. I guess the point is, what do you want?"

"I don't know. I mean, there's stuff I want to do in life, but I don't know if now's the best time."

"Listen, Dove," Cynthia replied, "the League doesn't own you. Either does your brother. You wanna take a break? Do you think that'd make you happy? Then do it. Your brother would understand, and the League would get by. I'm a huge believer in doing what makes you feel good. And right now, if that's not the League, then don't let it hold you back from your dreams."

Dove sighed in contemplation. "Well, thanks for the chat. I'll think on this. I won't keep you any longer," he said with a small smile.

"Right on," Cynthia replied. "Hope you find what you're looking for."

As she walked away, Dove looked back at her. "I do too," he muttered.

* * *

"I just don't get it," Hawk said, after telling Commander Steel about the events of the day.

"Well, you have to give him points. By the sounds of it, standing up to that thing took a lot of courage. And he did it without hesitation. He sounds damn brave to me.

"Yeah, but at the expense of his life?" Hawk shook his head. "He compared it to me wanting to go to Afghanistan, but it doesn't feel like the same thing."

"That's because you're biased," Commander Steel replied with a chuckle, taking a bit out of his chicken leg. "You love your brother, don't want to see him hurt, and still, he puts himself in the position in which he could be gravely injured. Do you ever think about his perspective? You think he likes seeing you put yourself into dangerous positions?

"That's sorta what I do, though," Hawk said, a slight smile on his lips. "I have to think that he's resigned himself to getting used to it."

"I'm sure he hasn't, Hawk. From what it sounds like, you've always been the tough guy, and he's been the little brother. It makes sense that you're looking out for him. But you gotta understand, you're in the League now. And he has to be his own man."

"He's not like you or me," Hawk put forward. "He's a lot more sensitive and-"

"I think the word you want to say," Commander Steel cut in, "though you don't want to give the wrong impression, is 'weak.' And that's fine. He's obviously not cut from the same cloth. But he is standing up for what's right. You don't like what he did? Tough. You don't think you'll ever have to risk your life on a mission?"

Hawk threw his hands up. "We're not on a level playing field."

"You are, though," Commander Steel threw back. "In the eyes of the League, we're all on a level playing field. You, me, that faceless kook. Your brother. All of us. He's not equal to you in your eyes, but it's your eyes only."

"I feel like I'm not explaining myself well," Hawk said with a groan.

"I think he really scared you today. And I think you're going to have to find someway to get over it. It might sound harsh, but we're in the League now. That small fish stuff you two did down in the northeast? That's nothing to what we deal with on a daily basis. Hell, just last week, I was attacked by a woolly mammoth."

Thrown off track, Hawk replied, "I thought those were extinct."

"Me too," Commander Steel said grimly. "But you never know what you're going to run into on the job. A woolly mammoth. A suit of armor that fights because everyone around is fighting. You gotta be prepared to deal with whatever comes up. And you gotta let your brother do the same. I don't know what it's like having family fighting alongside you. I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted my little brother by my side in Afghanistan. I can't imagine what that's like. But it's something that I would have thought you'd get used to by now."

"Despite the jokes between us, and everything Don and I have been through, you never get used to it," Hawk replied, utterly ignoring the food on his tray. "You never get used to it."

Commander Steel shook his head and sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, friend. I don't know if you've got a hell of a choice."

The two then ate in silence, Hawk picking at his food, Commander Steel looking over his new friend, wishing he could do more.

* * *

Sniffing suspiciously at his fish, Green Lantern sighed. "Vixen, I have to hand it to you. You sure do know how to treat a man."

"And you a woman," she said, "but please, stop calling me Vixen. Mari works just fine."

Giving a good-natured chuckle, he nodded. "Fine, and you can call me John."

Replying with a sultry smile, she said, "I sure as hell wasn't going to call you Green Lantern all night."

Taking a bite of his food, he motioned to the table. Swallowing, he asked, "You come here often? I don't think I've ever been in a restaurant this elegant." As he was glancing around, Mari could see he was truly impressed, and more so, out of his element. But that didn't excuse the lame question.

"You wanna ask your real question there, hot shot," Mari inquired, her smile not leaving her lips.

John shifted uncomfortably in his cushioned chair, turning back to her. Clearing his throat, John gave her an odd look. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"And I'm sure that's bullcrap," Mari replied. "And here I thought you were a straight shooter."

"I've not done this in a while," John confessed. "This whole dinner thing. Cut me some slack."

"You want to know why I came to your room tonight, John?"

"I'm more curious why you waited as long as you did," John admitted, pulling at his collar. "I mean, I'm sure I caught your eye as far back as early September."

"You did," Mari confirmed. "But I wasn't sure. You're a great looking guy, of course. But dating a senior member? I didn't know if that was something we're allowed to do."

"What conclusion did you come to," John replied, his face hard to read.

Mari shrugged. "After thinking on it, it turned out that I don't really care what's protocol and what's not."

"Well, I appreciate the honesty," John said, a smile on his lips. "I won't lie. I am attracted to you. But going out might give other members the wrong idea."

"Ooh, scary," Mari replied sarcastically. "If that happens, just tell them to shove it. You're a founding member. Ain't no one going to hassle you."

"It's not that simple, Mari," John insistently stated.

"It is, yeah. You want something, you go for it. And other people don't come into the equation. You have your goal. And you go for it. It's that simple."

John sighed. "I need to give it some thought. I hope you understand, Mari. It has nothing to do with you."

Exasperated, Mari shook her head. "If that's how you want to do it, fine. But don't wait too long. If I think it's a lost cause, I won't waste any time on it."

In spite of himself, John smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. It's definitely not a lost cause." He looked her over, the smile widening. "Give me a few days. I'll let you know then."

"If that's a promise, then I guess I can get by," she said, taking a bite out of her salad and smiling back at John.

* * *

At first, after having walked into Don's room, Hank thought something was wrong, for he was just sitting in his chair at the desk, staring at the wall, not acknowledging him.

Hank sat on Don's bed, looking at him. "You know I'm here, right?"

"Yeah," Don replied, his voice distant. Turning to him, Don shook his head a little. "Sorry, I've done a lot of thinking since you left."

"Me too," Hank agreed amiably. "Listen, I don't understand the whole pacifist thing. I think it's crap. Someone's fighting you, you deck them, and hard. But I get that it's your thing. About earlier, I understand that you did what you had to do. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Hank," Don replied, beginning to choke up, "I don't think I want to be here right now."

Dumbstruck, Hank stared at his brother. He was wiping his eyes nonchalantly, but Hank still saw it. "What's wrong? You want to leave the League?"

"This is hard," Don stated, his left hand rubbing his head. "I don't think I even want to be a hero, not at the moment."

"What are you talking about," Hank inquired, his confusion evident. "You want to retire? And do what?"

"Take an online course, finish college, and join the Peace Corps," Don replied, with a surprising amount of vigor in his tone.

Hank sat silently. Don carried on, "I know you don't understand where I'm coming from half the time. But it's something I want to do, and now is probably one of the best times to do it. Well, after college, anyways."

"You want to give up being a hero, give up the League, to join the Peace Corps?" Hank would have laughed, but he knew Don; he was dead serious.

"Yes. I can always come back to the League if they'd take me. But right now, this isn't what I most want to do. I didn't realize it before. But I do now."

"You're my partner and my brother, and you'd just leave me up here alone," Hank asked, in both vexation and dismay.

"I need to do this, Hank. I'm sorry. But I do," he adamantly urged.

Hank gulped. His voice low, he replied, "If it'll make you happier than you are now, then I guess go for it."

It was a hollow acceptance, Don knew, but it was a start. "Thanks. Don't worry, things will work out. It's not like we'll lose contact with each other. We've been together as partners since 1999 and brothers since we were born. I love you, you know that. But this is something I have to do."

And the two brothers, despite their intense differences, in everything from politics to personality, embraced each other in a deep hug. After 30 seconds passed, they let each other go.

"When are you going?"

"I'll talk to the senior members tomorrow. I'll probably be gone before Christmas."

"Don, at least stay until Christmas," Hank replied, his voice serious. "We always go to dad's house, open presents, spike the eggnog. Don't leave 'til after that."

Resigned, Don nodded. "You've convinced me. Okay."

Hank smiled. "At least I could convince you of something once in my life."

"Sorry to surprise you," Don said. "There's a ghost of a chance it'll happen again, though, so don't get your hopes up."

And the two brothers joked with each other for the next 30 minutes. As they've been doing they're whole lives. Their differences were clear, but life brought them together. And though Don would be gone for two years, Hank knew that wasn't likely to change.

If it did, though, Hank would have words for fate - none of them pleasant.


	12. Christmas With the League

**Hello, all.**

**Firstly, I want to give a shout-out to magitech for his reviews - and also to GoddlessOutrage****, who, while we disagree some matters, strikes me as a very decent author. Should you be interested in Harry Potter fan fiction, I'd give his story a look.**

**Should you have any questions or comments, don't be afraid to leave a review. Or a personal message. Whatever floats your boat.**

**Important to note, I will not be posting a chapter this upcoming Friday (the 18th). My next chapter will be posted Thursday the 24th.**

**Also, I do realize that these last chapters have not been the most action-filled. That's partially because I personally am more a fan of character-driven stories as opposed to action-filled stories. While I do mix them occasionally, I obviously far more heavily lean toward conversational chapters. That all said, don't fret - action will make it's appearance in upcoming chapters. I guarantee you.**

**I do not own any of the characters, songs, poems, or alcohol brands. Truth be told, I don't own much of anything.**

* * *

"Mine eyes have grown dim and my hair has turned white,

But my heart beats as warmly and gaily tonight

As in days that are gone and years that are fled-

Though I fill up my flagon and drink to the dead;

For over my senses sweet memories fall,

And the dead is come back to old Bachelor Hall."

Doctor Light was going to walk by, even after hearing that delivery waft from beyond the door to her left, but curiosity got the better of her. Sighing, and not knowing entirely what to expect, given the rumors and hearsay, she knocked lightly on the door.

The recitation ceased, and seconds later, the door slid open, Question on the other side. Neither said anything for a few seconds, then Doctor Light spoke up.

"Can I come in?"

Question nodded, and glided back to his computer, as Doctor Light walked in. The room was, well, exactly what Doctor Light would have guessed given all she's heard about Question. Almost four months in, though, she never once actually met him. But it was Christmas, and precious few people were left on the Watchtower. A skeleton crew remained, and a few heroes stayed up here, those who had no Christmas plans, Doctor Light and Question among them.

His room was an interesting one, for lack of a better word - posters lined the wall (the 'Got Fluoride?' caught her eye first, though the obviously fake Bigfoot picture taped onto his window followed thereafter), a bulletin board linking the most bizarre and unconnected events up with each other above his computer (and one on the right wall), and overflowing file cabinets. _Yep_, she considered, taking a glance around, _this is exactly like I would have thought._

"What's with that poem? The one you were reciting," she asked, hoping the question didn't come across as too personal too soon.

Typing on his keyboard, not bothering to look back, he replied. "Tired. Reciting poetry keeps my mental state aware. Need to work."

"Oh, what are you working on," she further inquired, trying to look over his shoulder at the screen, seeing a headline about breakfast bars containing amino acid chains before he switched off the screen.

"Can I help you with something," he asked, a slight edge in his voice, as he turned toward her.

"I haven't met you yet, Question, and as we're teammates, I thought it might be beneficial to finally do so."

"If you came to mock me about my work, then please go away."

"I said I was here to meet you," Doctor Light forcefully replied, aggravated already by his impersonal nature, and understanding more why she's heard what she's heard about him. "I don't know anything about your work, and I'm certainly not here to make fun of you for it."

At this, Question remained silent. "Not much for company. Not tonight. Not now," he told her.

"You don't say," she sarcastically replied. "It's Christmas, Question. You don't think you can relax for just a little? I heard there was going to be a small gathering of the League still up here later on tonight, so you should come to that."

"I'm busy," he stressed.

"I've never seen someone try so hard to avoid people," Doctor Light replied, her annoyance quite obvious. "From what I understand, when you're not on a mission, you're here in your room. Without fail. I'm not really a peoples' person myself, but damn it, at least I'm trying. What's with you?"

"Not having this conversation again," Question cryptically replied, and made to swivel back around when Doctor Light placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen, it's Christmas. And I understand that you either don't like or don't want to get to know the people you're working with. But I'm not leaving. You want to stay here all Christmas? Fine. Then I'm staying too," she adamantly said.

"Why?"

"Because no one should be alone on Christmas, Question," she replied simply.

At this, Question sighed.

"If you must, then stay."

Doctor Light smiled lightly at this. _It's not much, but it's something._

_It's something._

* * *

It was hard. Christmas always was. Easter wasn't easy either, but at least Pat didn't have as much to do to provide Courtney a perfectly fine day then. Christmas was a whole different story.

He tried though; Lord knows he tried. His first gift to her, a gag gift, a mug with her name and the original meaning (short nose), had managed to get her to crack a smile. The second present, a red and black cashmere scarf, was more genuine, but the gift that really made Pat proud was a pack of CD's that she really wanted. Pat didn't understand the appeal that some of it had, but after listening to a tune by Coldplay, he was happy to see that Courtney's musical taste wasn't too inaccessible.

It wasn't the same, though.

_Her mother could have done so much better_, Pat considered, a loud sigh escaping him as he sat on his bed. Sadder still, Courtney's present to him was nothing short of amazing. And he knew what he gave her simply couldn't compete.

He didn't have long to consider this, though, as a knock came upon his door, and seconds later, Courtney walked in, grinning widely at him. "_Let Go_'s a great album, Pat. Thanks a bunch for getting it for me."

"Which one was that," Pat replied, trying to shake his thoughts away, happy she enjoyed it.

"Avril Lavigne. You know, 'Complicated,' 'Sk8er Boi.' It's a really good album."

"How do the others stack up against it?"

"I listened to _Let Go_ like five times now, so I don't know," she replied unconcerned, removing her mask. "You sure my present was okay? I mean, I wasn't sure, but it seemed like-"

"It's better than okay, Courtney," Pat said, though his felt his smile waning. "It was very touching. And I thank you."

"You holding up, Pat," she asked, dropping the pretense of her stopping by. "I know Christmas can sometimes be hard for you." Pat gave her a look, and she tacked on, "For both of us, really."

"I'm okay, it's just," Pat began, but then stopped. _It's not right to put this all on her._ He shook his head. "You know, thinking about your mother is never easy. And I'm trying, but-"

"Pat, I still remember what she said the last time we saw her. She was joking around, sure, but she did tell me to take care of you while she was gone," Courtney stated, sitting down next to him and taking his hand in hers, her voice gentle. "I know it's not fair. It's not easy to not think about her. But you know she'd want us to be happy."

"You were only 12, and I didn't have any idea how to raise a kid," Pat replied.

"You did just fine," Courtney said with a smile. "I promise," she reiterated, "you did just fine. Don't worry about it."

"I miss her, Courtney," Pat spoke, gulping. "God, I miss her."

"I miss her too," Courtney replied, pulling him into a tight hug. "I miss her too. But you're doing fine."

The two embraced each other for a minute more in silence. "Pat, I'm sorry for acting bratty at times. Please don't think I don't appreciate you or I don't love you," she said, letting go of him. "I do love you, and that's not going to change."

"I think that's the best present you could ever get me," Pat replied, grinning sadly. "I love you too. And I always will."

* * *

Rocket Red stood on the deck, looking down on Earth. A few heroes were on the bridge; Mister Terrific was taking over for J'onn, though it was more ceremonial than anything - it was unlikely anything would come up tonight of all nights. But Rocket Red was alone on the deck.

Or he thought he was.

"Hey, man," a voice called out, and he looked over his right shoulder.

"Atom-Smasher," he said, pulling his heavy helmet off. "You are well, yes?"

"Moderately so, yeah," he replied, looking out down at Earth also. "You coming to the Christmas party tonight?"

"Da. Though I must admit," Rocket Red replied, stroking his beard, "this whole Christmas thing is still strange to me."

"What, no Christmas in Russia," Atom-Smasher joked.

"New Year's Day was a far bigger deal," he said with a shrug. "I knew some people celebrated Christmas, but not many. Orthodox Christians were sometimes arrested and fined, so much of the time, people didn't openly celebrate it."

"What, was this New Year's Day like a replacement," Atom-Smasher asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Da, that is a fair comparison. Ded Moroz would bring us all presents with the help of Snegurochka. We'd stand around the fir tree on New Year's Eve, and call out for Ded Moroz. It was a good childhood for the most part," Rocket Red finished, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "Christmas, American Christmas," he added, "just doesn't really make sense to me."

"I'm Jewish, man," Atom-Smasher replied with a grin. "Chanukah, I understand. Christmas isn't that much different. I mean, really, you gather around, hand out presents, drink eggnog and eat ham. As far as I'm concerned, that's the extent to it."

"Ham, I'm not a fan of," Rocket Red said, and smiled. "But the rest sounds good with me."

His face straight, Atom-Smasher replied, "It's not my cup of tea either."

Rocket Red gave a hearty chuckle at this, and looked back down at Earth. "Even after Gorbachev and Yeltsin, I felt proud to be Russian. But times have changed. You know," he continued, looking over at Atom-Smasher, "when I came to the United States and became a citizen, people never seemed to trust me? All they could see was a Communist. Not a person, and certainly not someone worth respecting."

"Well, the Red Scare really screwed Russians over, I agree. You're not still a Communist, though, are you," Atom-Smasher inquired, a look of surprise on his face. "I would have thought after the USSR fell, that whole Communist thing would have stopped."

"Please keep in mind, friend, that the Soviet Union was my country," Rocket Red stated. "Just like you, I am sure, are proud to be American, I was very happy with my country. Oh, we had problems, but what country didn't?" Before Atom-Smasher could cut in, Rocket Red added, "And yes, for all intents and purposes, I am politically a Communist."

"Must be a real shock to the system, living right now in America with those views," Atom-Smasher replied, somewhat sympathetic. "I mean, under Bush and all."

At this, Rocket Red shrugged. "I voted Nader. I did what I could."

Atom-Smasher chuckled. "Well, we only have a few more years of Bush, pal. I'm sure we can make it through."

Shaking his head, Rocket Red replied, "That's not what I would call uplifting, friend."

"Well, I heard that Aztek was going to bring a bunch of alcohol for the party tonight, so maybe that'd help."

Rocket Red shrugged. "Da, I guess that it's a start." He continued looking down at Earth. He sighed heavily. "I miss my homeland. I can't pretend otherwise. My friends. Vadim, Boris, Alexei. It's just not the same."

"It's difficult, yeah," Atom-Smasher replied, patting him on his back. "We have a fir tree in the lounge. You want to stand around it and call out to Ded Moraz, we can do that."

"Moroz, friend, Moroz," Rocket Red replied with a chuckle. "But thank you. We should do that."

"Well, someone will get you when we're ready," Atom-Smasher stated. "See you then."

Rocket Red nodded. "Thank you, friend."

After he left, Rocket Red turned his head back to Earth, thoughts of the Motherland swarming back. A small tear coming from the corner of his eye.

* * *

"No family, I take it?"

"Bored," Question replied, waving his hand. "This doesn't interest me at all."

"You know," Doctor Light stated, "you could at least pretend to care about other people."

"I have no family. I have few acquaintances. Anything else?"

Doctor Light growled. "I'm this close, jackass, to leaving," she exclaimed, holding her thumb and index finger a millimeter apart. "You're certainly not making this easy."

Question shrugged at that, not appearing overly bothered by being called a jackass. "My work is important. Christmas, or company, for that matter, isn't. Not trying to be a jerk. Small talk is not something I am bothering with, though."

"Fine, no small talk," Doctor Light agreed, somewhat aggressively. "Are you interested at all in eventually having a family, or are you content with just being a loner your whole life?"

She got the sense that Question rolled his eyes, but then again, it was impossible to tell for sure.

"I'm sure that will happen down the road," Question replied, though his tone, at least in Doctor Light's opinion, was rather unconvinced.

"You don't even care, do you?" She sighed as Question remained silent. After a few seconds, she rolled her eyes, and stood up, making her way to the door.

"I do care," a reply came, just before she was able to leave. Turning back to him, she was surprised to see him looking straight at her.

"I do care," he repeated, "but my work, my research, is more important."

"More important than your happiness," Doctor Light replied, her tone much gentler than earlier.

"The truth very rarely leads to happiness," Question enigmatically stated. "It's the truth I seek. Anything else can come after that."

Doctor Light shook her head, not understanding this at all. "So looking for what you consider the truth is more important than being happy? That's-"

"Insane, I know," Question cut her off, annoyed. "Heard it before. Told you that."

"I guess we're just different people, Question. And I can't really relate to how you view this."

"Wouldn't expect you to. But now you have a little perspective on me, though. Is that what you were looking for?"

Hesitating a second, Doctor Light sat on Question's bed. "You know, when I first met Crimson Fox, we got into a huge fight. I guess it's mostly because we're the same type of people. But she really pissed me off. A week later, we went on a mission. Some villain named Killer Frost was holding some people hostage or something. Anyway, we went in intensely disliking each other. But afterwards, we eat together in the commissary every Wednesday. She even helped me pick out a dress for special occasions."

"Point being," Question replied, his tone bored.

"Point being that you can make some really good friends up here. And everyone, even you, could benefit from more friends. I just don't think it's something you should shut yourself off from. If not me, that's fine - I don't get the impression we're compatible anyway. But I honestly feel like you can find time between your work and missions to meet people."

"Don't know why you'd care one way or the other."

"I care because not everyone is as cynical as you," Doctor Light replied, "and I'm a pretty cynical person. Just keep it in mind, please. But if you don't want me here, or anyone, for that matter, then I'm done forcing my company on you."

Question appeared to contemplate her words for a bit. When he replied, though, she couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed.

"Goodbye then."

In a huff, she stood up and opened the door. Not expecting anything else, she left. Alone, Question spoke aloud. "Thank you for coming by."

He yawned, and turned back to his computer. Seconds later, he began reciting poetry again, right where he left off.

"I see her fair face face through a vapor of tears,

And her sweet voice comes back o'er the desert of years;

And I hear, oh, so gently, the promises she spoke,

And a soft spirit hand soothes the heart that is broke;

So I fill up the flagon, and drink-that is all-

To the dead and the dying of Bachelor Hall."

* * *

"Now what am I," Plastic Man asked to the kids, morphing into a very poor looking giraffe. Ralph couldn't help but laugh at this, and the children followed suit.

"A horse," shouted a blonde-haired boy, no more than seven.

"No, you idiot, it's a giraffe," shot back a redhead. "Not a good one, though."

Ralph doubled over at this, banging his fist on the floor, as Plastic Man came back into his human shape. He blew a raspberry at Ralph, and the audience ate it up.

"For my one last trick," Plastic Man said, instigating quite a bit of protest from the children, "I'll need my partner, Ralph, to come up and join me."

Standing up, Ralph went to the front of the room. Plastic Man whispered into his ear, and he nodded.

Both of them going behind a curtain for a few seconds, they walked out moments later in the form of Santa Claus - Elongated Man as Santa, Plastic Man as the sack he was carrying.

"Ho, ho, ho," Ralph said, his voice as low as he could make it. "Merry Christmas. Let's see what we have for you kids," he continued, reaching into Plastic Man, who couldn't help but giggle at the sensation. "Ah, a scooter," Ralph stated, bringing out a medium-sized box. "A few soccer balls," he added, pulling out multiple objects, "a new _Mario Party_ game, some board games, Nerf blasters, and five copies _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_." By this point, the whole audience of children was clapping and cheering. "Have you all been good kids this year?"

A cacophony of affirmatives rang out.

"Well, then, Merry Christmas," Ralph stated aloud, and with a bow, both he and Plastic Man went back behind the curtain, transforming back into their normal selves. A woman, one of the staff members at the Spofford Orphanage, came to the two of them.

"I can't thank you two enough for coming down here," she said, her disposition overly cheery. She pulled both of them into a hug. "The children loved you. Do please think about coming back sometime soon."

"You let us know when, Riva," Plastic Man replied kindly. "We'll be here."

* * *

"You asshat," Cynthia screamed, and Courtney, laughing aloud, knew she came to the right people to hang out with.

"Sorry, Cynthia," Aztek sheepishly said, picking up his third star in _Mario Party 4_. The girl sometimes called Gypsy was trailing with a sole star.

Stargirl jumped in mid-game, but with two stars, she was just happy to not be the cause of Cynthia's annoyance.

"Princess Peach is kicking your ass," Aztek informed Cynthia, nodding over at Stargirl. "Go after her; leave Wario alone."

"Hey, you guys hear that Dove was leaving the League," Stargirl asked, her eyes staying on the screen.

Aztek frowned at this. "Truth be told, I don't think I really met him. You'd think after four months, something'd have to give, but I guess not."

"Dove was a pretty nice guy," Cynthia stated, groaning as she rolled a 2. "When I spoke to him, I got the impression he wasn't happy here, though. Or at the very least, was having second thoughts."

"His brother must be taking it pretty hard," Aztek mused.

"I don't know Hawk at all, but yeah, I'd imagine so," Cynthia replied. "You know, I think I shoulda picked Daisy. Then maybe I'd be winning."

"Oh, that reminds me," Stargirl suddenly spoke, looking at Aztek, "not the Daisy thing, the 'not knowing Dove' thing. Al was putting together a Christmas party later tonight. You guys should definitely come."

"Oh, I know," Aztek said, chuckling. "I spent something like 60 dollars on alcohol for the occasion. Atom-Smasher was very specific in what he wanted."

Stargirl sighed. "If you guys are all going to be drunk, I don't know how much fun I'll have."

"Hey, don't worry," Cynthia said, patting Courtney on her arm, "I don't drink, so I can keep you company if these jackasses all get too impaired."

"You know, you could always join in with us," Aztek stated to Stargirl. "I mean, you're close to 21, right?"

Cynthia punched him on his arm. "No, she can't, you irresponsible jerk."

"Ya know, I'm only 18," Stargirl replied, rolling her eyes. "My b-day was a few weeks ago. If you had come to the party-"

"Couldn't have done it," Aztek said, shaking his head. "Minnesota Wild was beating the hell out of Tampa Bay Lightning. A 5-3 victory on Wild's part. It was a pretty high-scoring game for hockey."

"And that was more important than my birthday party," Stargirl asked in a faux pout.

"Is that even a question," Aztek inquired.

Again, Cynthia punched him in the arm, and Courtney broke out in laughter again.

* * *

"You sure you don't want to come to the party, man," Atom-Smasher asked Mr. Terrific. "They'll be drinks, games, food."

"I don't drink, I ate earlier, and I don't celebrate Christmas," he replied. "More so, I have a duty here while J'onn is gone, and I intend to fulfill that duty to the best of my ability."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a buzzkill, T?"

"Only everyone," he said, with a chuckle. "Seriously, you guys have fun tonight. Try not to get too inebriated, though, just in case we need you."

"I can't promise anything," Atom-Smasher stated, patting Mr. Terrific on his back. "By the way, I heard about what you and Zatanna did for Vibe. Nice job."

"Thanks, though I was hoping that wouldn't get around," Mr. Terrific admitted. "Who told you?"

"Zatanna," Atom-Smasher simply replied.

Mr. Terrific chuckled again. "I should have known. Well, you guys have a good time. If possible, I might try to stop by. Give everyone my regards."

"Will do," Atom-Smasher nodded.

Walking down the winding hallways, he tried to mentally list everyone who was still on the Watchtower, hoping he wouldn't miss anyone.

_Let's see, Rocket Red, Nemesis, Stargirl, STRIPE, Question. _With that last name in mind, he shook his head, torn. _Well, guess I might as well ask him. Anyways, where was I? Stargirl, Question, Cynthia, Aztek, Doctor Mid-Nite, Waverider._

Racking his brain for any other names, none came. _Wonder where Courtney is? She could help collect some of these people._

With the objective of trying to find Courtney in mind, Atom-Smasher walked onward.

* * *

"I've gotta be honest, Plastic Man," Ralph started, walking outside into the light snowfall, "when you first came to me with this idea, I was skeptical. But the kids loved it. Thanks for bringing me in on this."

Plastic Man shrugged. "Well, I knew for the final trick, I couldn't do it alone. I'm just glad that you decided to help out."

"You want to come over to my place? My wife is making ham tonight, and I guarantee you, you won't want to miss it. That is, if you don't have family you need to get back to yourself."

"I don't," Plastic Man replied softly. Without further comment on that, he asked, "Where do you live, Buffalo, was it?"

"Yeah, and I live pretty close to Lake Erie, so if Sue brings out a fruitcake, I can shift into a raft, and you can make a quick getaway."

"Is that likely," Plastic Man asked, looking up at the snowy twilight.

"Hope not, but if it happens, I think we can take her if we need to," Ralph replied with a wink. "So you cool with coming over?"

"Sure thing. Mister Terrific," Plastic Man stated, his earpiece picking it up, "can you beam me and Ralph up? We need to get to Buffalo."

"Sure thing," the reply quickly came. "Hold onto your butts."

And under a minute later, they went from Kansas City to Buffalo. _God, _Plastic Man considered, _I sure do love teleportation._

* * *

"Nemesis can't make it, and Question refuses to come out of his room," Atom-Smasher told the small group of heroes. Doctor Light looked particularly disheartened, and so he added, "In his defense, he did seem to think about it for a few seconds." He hesitated for a few seconds, then asked, "Anyone know what aglets are? He was talking about how they were sinister or something."

"I have zero idea what aglets are, Atom-Smasher," Doctor Mid-Nite spoke, "but it's the Question - I really wouldn't be concerned."

"Was Waverider going to be able to make it," Doctor Light asked. "I believe he is still here."

"Courtney was going to ask him," Atom-Smasher replied. "Personally, the few times I've spoken to him, he doesn't really seem concerned with hanging out. I mean, he's a nice enough guy, but I don't know. Doesn't like talking or something."

"The guy has amnesia, I think," Aztek stated. "Partial, I'm guessing. He confided in me that he was going through that, and it's sorta one of those things you need to try and tackle alone. He literally doesn't remember a good half of his life."

"Ouch, that blows," Doctor Mid-Night said. Rocket Red nodded from the corner of the room, where he was decorating a Christmas tree.

Aztek nodded. "Yeah, the guy doesn't drink anyways, so the fun he'd have might be limited."

Cynthia walked into the room carrying a rather large bag of Chinese food. "The choices were limited tonight, guys."

"Tell me about it," Atom-Smasher mused. Doctor Mid-Nite stifled a chuckle at that remark.

"Here, let me help," Aztek replied, and Cynthia shifted the bag to him. "If you could clear off a spot in the middle of the table, that'd be great."

Cynthia glanced to the table, and a pronounced eye-roll followed. "Okay, Hangar 1 I can sorta understand, but Jameson Irish whiskey? McDowell's No. 1 Celebration? You guys are expecting to drink this all tonight?"

She moved some of these bottles to the side, and Aztek placed the Chinese food down.

"Well, I think the plan was to have a drinking competition," Aztek replied, glancing at the others in the room. "Who was in, Atom-Smasher, me, Rocket Red, and who?"

"Me," Doctor Light replied quietly, blushing at the look of betrayal Cynthia was sending her. "I'm uptight 364 days of the year. I think on one night I can unravel."

"Da, but I can drink all three of you under the chair," Rocket Red stated, opening the container of beef and broccoli.

"You don't really care about perpetuating stereotypes, do you," Atom-Smasher replied, patting him on the back. "By the way, if you're going to get smashed, please take the suit off. I don't want you blowing off our heads with missiles or anything."

Nodding, he began walking to the door. "I'll be back in a few."

Giving the door he just exited a side-look, Doctor Light said, "You know, if we poison the vodka, we could take him out early."

Aztek shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Sure, we could, but that'd make my victory too easy."

"Anyhow," Doctor Mid-Nite spoke up, more to Cynthia, who was eying Aztek with disbelief, than anyone else, "while these imbeciles are getting drunk, what are we going to do?"

"Gossip about the League. Tell thrilling stories of past missions. That type of thing," Cynthia replied with a slight shrug.

"Oh, that reminds me," Aztek stated excitedly, "you guys here about Captain Atom and Green Arrow?"

The whole of the room broke out in laughter - the answer clearly a resonating affirmative.

"I can't believe Arrow had the balls to do that," Cynthia said through her giggles. "Did the senior members talk to him at all over that stunt?"

Atom-Smasher shrugged. "Well, he was within his rights. It doesn't show great solidarity within the League, though."

"Yeah, but," Doctor Light began, but was cut off by Mid-Nite.

"I think we can all understand where Arrow was coming from. Was it a smart move? Maybe not in terms of optics, but Al's right. It was Arrow's decision, and he had every right to make that decision."

"If he does get kicked from the League, I'd be pissed," Aztek said with a shake of the head.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Doctor Light replied. "But we have to be sure that type of thing doesn't happen again."

"You know, as much as some might blame Arrow, Captain Atom wasn't innocent either," Cynthia said. "Did he get approval from the senior members to do that? I don't think so."

"Any other activities planned for tonight," Doctor Mid-Nite asked. "Movies, music?"

"Well," Stargirl brightly said, sauntering into the room holding CD's, "I've got music."

"Indeed, Courtney," Atom-Smasher replied, "but what you don't have is Waverider or your step-dad."

The young girl shrugged. "Pat was happy you invited us, but hit the sack early. He trusts you guys to make sure I stay out of trouble and don't do anything I shouldn't." Cynthia gave Aztek a hard look at that, but whether Aztek was ignoring looking in her direction purposely or coincidentally, she didn't know. "Waverider was gratified, but he doesn't think this type of thing is his scene."

"Aw, well, you can't win them all," Cynthia replied.

"Anyways, for music," Stargirl replied, looking down at the CD's in her hand, "I've got Avril Lavigne's _Let Go_, Foo Fighters' _One by One_, My Chemical Romance's _I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love_, Coldplay's _A Rush of Blood to the Head_, and Bright Eye's _Lifted._" She didn't notice the looks she was getting from most of the members. Or Doctor Light mouthing 'My Chemical Romance?' to Mid-Nite, who only shook his head with a smile.

"Huh," Atom-Smasher commented, appearing rather amused. "I think out of those, I'll have to pick these." He pulled two CD's out of his pocket. "Trans-Siberian Orchestra's two albums. It's Christmas, Courtney. Coldplay? Foo Fighters? That's not the Christmas spirit."

"You're Jewish, Al, what the hell do you know about the Christmas spirit," Aztek asked. Cynthia made to punch him for at least the third time that night, but he dodged her.

"Hey kids, let's play nice," Rocket Red called out, walking through the door, completely out of his robotic suit. "Now Aztek, where did you put the vodka? Let's get this party started."

"The drinks and mixers are on that table. Boxed wine in the fridge. Chinese food near the whiskey." Rocket Red shook his head at the mention of mixers, but otherwise remained silent.

"And the stereo," Atom-Smasher asked, nodded when he was told it too was one the table, as he was patting a slightly dispirited Courtney on the back, and in a lower voice, spoke to her. "You can play your stuff when we're drunk, and I don't think that'd take a hell of a while."

"Thanks, Al. Oh, and thanks for the suggestion on what to get Pat. He loved it."

"Of course he did. Because Christmas is about family and friends. Remember that, Courtney. Not your religion, not your beliefs. It's about loved ones. And that's the only thing that matters. Glad he liked the present."

She gave him a light, awkward hug, given the size discrepancy. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

And as Rocket Red was pouring his first shot of vodka, as Doctor Mid-Nite and Aztek were arguing over whether hockey or football was a better sport, as Atom-Smasher was putting the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's _Christmas Eve and Other Stories _into the stereo, as Pat Dugan was looking at the last picture taken of him and his late wife, as Mr. Terrific was studying the monitors, as Question was obsessively reading a classified report from the desk of Senator Bob Graham reciting "The Path That Leads to Nowhere", Ralph Dibny, his wife, and Plastic Man were consuming a Christmas ham to Duke Ellington's _Nutcracker Suite_, beguiling her with their performance they gave earlier in Kansas, and the joy the children felt.

For the Justice League, this Christmas night, all was well.

"An angel came down

One night to the Earth

A mission from God

To find out the worth

Of everything that

His children had done

Since that winter night

The birth of His son"


	13. The Last Stand

**Hello, all.**

**Should you have any questions or comments, don't be afraid to leave a review or send a personal message. Believe me, either one makes me happy.**

**To note, the next chapter will be out Friday, April 1st . This chapter takes place mid-February 2003.**

**I do not own any of the characters. Ages for some of the characters come from my own guesses. Believe it or not, I do have ages and birthdays for almost all of the members of the Justice League, along with some of their rogues. I believe in being thorough. **

**In relation, I have Metropolis placed on the coast of Delaware. That's one of many possible locations, but it is the one I am sticking with and making official in my continuity. Related, though not pertinent to this chapter, Gotham City is on the coast of New Jersey.**

**I do hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Edward looked himself over one last time in the streaked hotel mirror, and let out a long-winded sigh. Not the first one of the evening, either.

_God, I can't believe it._

With a shake of his head, he ambled back into the main room, and sat down on his bed, staring intently, silently, at the mute green floor. Moments later, his hotel door opened.

"Hey, Light-Man, you ready to rock," the woman asked, her cackling following the inquiry. At his downbeat expression though, her countenance grew considerably more serious.

Sitting down next to him, she threw an arm over his shoulder. "Speak up, Lytener. What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"This is the last shot I'll ever have," Edward replied, his voice soulless. "This is it. And I don't even know if I want to do it."

"Don't think that way, man," Livewire replied dismissively. "I wasn't released on good behavior just to go back to some normal life. Superman did this to me," she suddenly snarled, raising her arms and showing the extent to her disfigurement, her ghastly, pale blue skin. "And yeah, at first, I was cool with it. I had powers. I could kick his ass. Almost had him down a few times, too. After Superbrat and Batchick screwed me over, though, not to mention that Poison Ivy bitch, I've spent the last four years in Stryker's planning my revenge, not counting that short time I was with Kalibak and Toyman. GothCorp's so-called 'treatments' couldn't do diddly for me, so I'm stuck like this. Permanently. And that's not cool anymore."

"I spent over a year preoccupied with thoughts of Lois Lane," Edward began, nodded at her appreciatively for her words. "And once I broke out, I had Superman on the ropes. I mean, I almost had him. You remember, that whole red sky incident?"

She shook her head. "I was in prison at the time. After that Purple People Eating bastard betrayed me. No windows in my cell. I heard about it, though."

"That was almost ten years ago," Edward stated wistfully. "And I've been in and out of Stryker's since. Life's not long, especially for those who walk our paths. I just don't know if I even have it in me."

Almost pleading, Livewire replied, "Listen, you think I'm getting any younger? Superman took my life away from me at 26 years old. 26. I've been a freak since 1993. And I sure as hell don't intend to let Blue Boy get away with it. Even if I have to go after him alone."

"We're not going to win," Edward exclaimed miserably. "We'll be beaten. Badly. And we'll just be sent back to Stryker's. Another stretch. Two years, five years, ten years. Who the hell can tell the difference anymore? Maybe I could live a life, a worthwhile life, and leave this all behind."

"If you're going soft on me, then damn it, leave," Livewire shouted, her anger getting the better of her, pointing at the door. "But from what you told me, both Lois Lane and Superman ruined your life too, and if you're just going to let them get away with it-"

Edward cut her off. "I think in many ways, I ruined my own life. My obsession with Lane, my infatuation, for lack of a better word, wasn't normal. The doctors in prison said I suffered some type of mental imbalance. God, I almost killed her. The woman I loved. I thought I loved. Just because she left my name out of that damn LexCorp piece." Again, the nearing 42 year-old man shook his head. "I don't want to hurt Lois anymore. And I don't want to hurt Superman. I don't want to go back to Stryker's. I can't do another stretch. I just can't."

"We've been planning this for two weeks, Eddie," Livewire stated, her tone soft. Sincere. So unlike her usual self. "The charity thing's tomorrow night. There's not enough time, even if I could bring someone else in on this, to bring them up to date."

"Volcana, Copperhead, Firefly, I think I still have their contact info," Edward tonelessly replied. He gulped, and began tearing up. "I cannot do another stretch," he stressed. "I can't do it."

Silence fell between the two. A silence of both contemplation and understanding. At last, one of them spoke.

"I'll help you," Edward said. "But there's something you need to do for me."

After hearing him out, Livewire nodded. She hoped to God it wouldn't come to that. But she nodded nonetheless.

* * *

Upon seeing the snow lightly falling before the Metropolis Civic Center, and a growing collective of press and attendees alike, Stargirl couldn't help but groan. Ray flashed her an appreciative smile.

"Courtney, behave," STRIPE lightly said, standing across from the aforementioned building. "I know that none of us want to be here," he stated, as he looked around at the mostly unenthusiastic members of the League, "but Superman says this is a good idea, and I happen to agree."

"He's the one who blew up the building in the first place," Doctor Light shot back, eying the reporters in front of the Civic Center with a distasteful look. "He should be down here, not us."

"Golly, guys," Captain Marvel said, holding up his arms as if to stop a potential conflict, "Superman asked us to be here. This is Superman. Does anyone here not think that he knows what's best for the League?"

No one answered - Obsidian was close, admittedly, Ray couldn't help buy notice - because they knew that their newest member was right.

"This is a chance for these people, the people we're supposed to be protecting, to meet us," Captain Marvel continued. "Superman's fight with Bizarro knocked down three buildings here, and this charity is a fantastic way to help raise money to rebuild them."

"Plus," STRIPE added, "remember, if Luthor shows up, Superman's very insistent that we keep an eye out on him, so it's not as though this is just a waste of our times."

Stargirl shivered as the snow began falling down at a quicker pace, and hugged her body. "Fine," she pouted, "let's just go inside and get this over with."

In a slow procession, mournful, almost, in tone, the group of six heroes marched to the Civic Center across the darkening snowy eve.

* * *

"Hello, I'm Angela Chen," a professionally dressed, short-haired woman stated, approaching the very apparent out-of-place heroes as soon as they entered the grand hall, "of _T__he_ _Daily Planet_. Would any of you be open to an interview?"

Stargirl looked around at the others and shrugged. Not seeing any indication of how to answer, she replied, "Sure, I-"

"I'm not sure if we should be giving interviews, ma'am," STRIPE cut in, placing a hand on his step-daughter's shoulder.

Chen's eyes glittered at this exchange, and supplied them a sly smile. "Surely, as the representatives of the Justice League, you're allowed to talk to the people, right, STRIPE?"

"Hold the phone," STRIPE replied, the surprise evident in his voice. "You know me?"

"I know all of the Justice League members," Chen said, nodding, the smile not having left her face. "It's my job," she added with a wink. Stargirl blanched at this, which she knew Chen saw.

Captain Marvel spoke up, giving the others a look and a shrug, "Ma'am, I'd be happy to give you an interview on the behalf of the League."

Her smile widening, which Courtney seconds ago would have believed impossible, the two of them walked away, Chen putting an arm around Captain Marvel's. To STRIPE, Stargirl inquired, "What's wrong with me giving an interview?"

"Because I don't trust her," STRIPE flatly replied. Doctor Light and Ray nodded at this, while Obsidian, not listening, had his eyes on the goings-on around the room. "Sometimes the media can skew your words, and the fact that she's so, well," he paused, struggling for a word.

"Smarmy," Doctor Light offered.

"Sure, that works," STRIPE replied with a curt nod. "When a reporter is that eager, I get suspicious. I'm glad that Captain Marvel stepped in, but truth be told, I don't know if he's the best person to take her on either."

"Beats Booster Gold, though," Ray replied with an unconcerned shrug. "I'm sure he'll be fine. What are we supposed to do now, though? Just hang around and wait for people to talk to us?"

"I don't know about you all," STRIPE said, "but I have every intention of mingling. Who knows, maybe we could meet some good people. Keep our perspective, ya know?"

The remaining members stood silent at this, and STRIPE sighed. "Fine, you can all sulk over here, but I'm going to make this most of this." With that, he went toward a small crowd of people, and introduced himself.

"Well, this blows," Ray spoke up after a minute had passed. He leaned against a nearby wall, and shook his head. "What do you guys think of Marvel, though? He's been in the League, what, two weeks, and he's already speaking 'on behalf' of us?"

"He's naive," Doctor Light simply said. "He comes across as one of those characters from _Leave It to Beaver. _Let's give him time, though. I'm sure he'll learn."

"You have any thoughts, man," Ray threw at Obsidian, who still was looking away from the group, and was oblivious to their conversation.

"Huh," he replied, glancing at Ray. "Uh, no. I was thinking about getting some drinks, and slipping into a discreet, dark corner so I can actually drink them," he replied, motioning to his mask.

"The downsides of having a full-faced mask, huh," Ray mused, a slight smile on his face.

"Excuse me," a voice spoke over the microphone, tapping lightly. A man, smartly dressed in a light blue suit, spoke up at a stage. "As I'm sure you all know, I'm Adrian Tye, host of Tye in the Morning on WLXL 95.5 Alive." A spatter of applause was the reaction at this. "I wanted to thank all of you for pouring out your hearts to help us rebuild the lost structures in Bizarro's attacks on the city. In particular, Perry White of _The Daily Planet_, Lex Luthor, and the Justice League have been a great help for us tonight. In fact, some members of the Justice League are here tonight. While Superman couldn't make it, please let those who could know how much you appreciate them." At this, another round of applause followed.

"With that, I want to thank also Mayor Jessie Ingram for allowing us use of the Civic Center free of charge. Also, a special thanks to our Governor, Ruth Ann Minner, for her condolences on the damage Metropolis again suffered. The fact that there was no life loss though speaks volumes to the positive spirit of this city. And though we have been through bad times, and worse times, we'll persevere, with the help of Superman, the Justice League, and our everyday heroes, the Metropolis Police Department and Commissioner Henderson."

Naturally, another round of applause erupted, this one lasting longer than the previous bouts. Obsidian, decidedly bored, joined Ray in leaning on the wall, and began whispering to him. Courtney took note of this, and though she wished she could join them, a glance from Doctor Light told her to stay put and give the speaker her attention. Or else, was the implicit threat.

"Lastly, my thanks go out to all of those in attendance. I hope you enjoy tonight's music provided by the Metropolis Philharmonic Orchestra. May tonight bring this city together, forever and always," Adrian Tye finished, a small bow following that conclusion. Stargirl politely clapped as the classical music began, and made to join Obsidian and Ray in their conversation, but she did a double-take.

They were gone.

Doctor Light rolled her eyes. "Well, that didn't take long."

* * *

"So, how's life with the Justice League," Angela Chen inquired, sitting down on a bar-stool, her tape recorder noisily recording. Awkwardly, Captain Marvel followed suit.

"It's perfectly dandy, ma'am. They're a very good group of people," the newest member stated with a smile, fiddling with a napkin. "I mean, golly, could you imagine the League being anything but?"

She gave a light chuckle at that. "Tell me, are there any romances brewing? Any super couples that we can all look up to?"

"I don't know if that's a question I'm comfortable answering," Captain Marvel replied, fidgeting. "I mean, it's not my place to-"

"Many down here have a deep love for the League and their great job in protecting us," Chen put forward. "In short, we love you. But there are numbers of people who wish the League were more an open book than what you've been so far. I mean, some of you have given interviews before," she continued, sipping her club soda. "Blue Devil, Elongated Man, Zatanna, they all gave interviews since the formation of the League. But what my readers are interested in, what they most want to know," she said, her tone hushed, "is what life up there is really like. The conflicts. The romances. The drama. The human element. You understand, Captain?"

Captain Marvel pulled at his collar, and gulped. "Well, I've only been there a few weeks, so I don't know how much I can really tell you," he replied, clearly unsure of himself.

"Let's start with friendships. Who pals around? Who can't stand each other?"

"Um, gosh, well, let me think on that a bit."

"By all means, takes you time, Captain Marvel," Angela Chen smiled, the recorder in her left hand, her club soda in her right. "Take your time."

* * *

The room, an offshoot from the main hall, was both small and empty, Ray happily noted. Obsidian silently handed him his champagne glass, and once his hands were empty, removed his mask. He ran his right hand through his short brown hair prior to taking back his glass.

"Thanks," Obsidian replied, somewhat awkwardly, Ray felt.

"No problem. Nice to be out of all that, right," he asked, nodded back to the room they had come from. He took a sip of his Pinot grigio. "After my father's passing, I have a much lower tolerance for crowds. All that small talk rubs me the wrong way."

Obsidian uncomfortably shuffled, and scratched his neck. "I've never been much a people's person. My sister always joked that at a party, not only would I be in standing in the corner, but I'd be in the corner of the most empty room, looking at the wall."

Ray gave a small smirk at this, and again, Obsidian shifted uncomfortably.

"It's better when she tells it," he admitted with a blush. "By the way," he added, "listen, I'm really sorry that you went through that, your father and all. I would have said something, but that's not really-"

"It's no problem, man," Ray replied, shrugging. "I saw you at the funeral, so the fact that you came is all that matters to me."

Quiet fell upon the two of them, and they both took another sip of their respective beverages.

"Did you-"

"I was wondering-"

They both stopped talking to allow the other one to finish, and once neither one did, they shared a laugh.

"You go first," Obsidian replied with a smile.

"I was just going to ask what your name was," Ray stated. "You know, if you're comfortable sharing it. I guess that Ray wasn't the best code-name I could come up with," he concluded, sheepishly.

"Oh," Obsidian replied with surprise. "I'm sorry, I thought I told before. Todd." He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said, his smile lopsided.

"So, Todd," Ray began, taking another sip of his wine, "what do you do on your off-time? You have a family?"

Todd's blush, already present, deepened. "No, aside from my sister and father, I'm pretty much a loner. Truthfully, I just spend most of my time up in the Watchtower either training, reading through the villain files, or watching movies."

"You catch that Back to the Future marathon on HBO last week," Ray inquired. "Don't know about you, but I love those."

Todd chuckled. "I did, actually, yeah. I love the first one, a real classic, though the second's damn good too."

"Actually, I think the second one's funnier, just barely, mind," Ray replied, "than the first one is. The whole 'You're forgetting one thing - what the hell is that!' still cracks me up."

"Christopher Lloyd's great in that movie too," Todd stated, nodding. "I think my favorite line is the 'Don't talk to anyone, don't touch anything, don't do anything, don't interact with anyone, and try not to look at anything.' Does Doc not understand that doesn't leave Marty a hell of a lot of options?"

"Aside from his scientific stuff, I don't think Doc understood much of anything, really," Ray replied with a shrug. "Well, at least, not until the third move. You able to catch those all in theaters?"

"Drive-ins, yeah. Man, those were the days," Todd wistfully replied, sipping his drink.

Ray followed suit. "Yep, they really were."

* * *

After the last group of attendees left Doctor Light and Stargirl, silence came down upon them.

_Not awkward silence_, Stargirl considered, _though I guess we don't really know each other and -_ He train of thought ceased. She grinned to herself, and gave a small chuckle. _Okay, it's awkward silence._

Doctor Light curiously looked at the younger girl. "Have anything to share," she asked, a slight smile on her face, obviously feeling as though she was missing something.

"No, just," Stargirl began, hesitating, and then thought, _Oh, what the heck. You only live once. _"It feels awkward, you and I, just standing here. I mean, I don't mean to sound insulting or anything," she tried to explain, her eyes staring into Doctor Light's curious gaze, "but I don't know you that well. Even at the Christmas Party, I was basically hanging out with Al and Cynthia and Aztek all night. I sorta feel bad, ya'know, not giving you much time."

Doctor Light smiled and looked away, a small laugh coming from her. "I'm a big girl. Believe me, I wasn't at all offended about anyone's lack of conversation toward me. I'm not a big talker most of the time, and I went to that party on a limb, for no other reason that Atom-Smasher was kind enough to ask me to come. If you recall, I wasn't exactly sober toward the end of the night anyway, so I wouldn't say that I had no fun."

Stargirl grinned at this. "Yeah, that's true. I guess, to me, there's so many people on the Watchtower, hanging out regularly with more than ten just sorta feels like I'm spreading myself thin."

The older woman nodded. "Indeed, I have seen you hang out a lot with Ralph, Cynthia, Speedy, Al, and Aztek. I have friends too - Crimson Fox, for one, if you know her - so it's not like I'm alone up there. I appreciate your concern though," she concluded kindly.

"You been doing this how long," Stargirl inquired. "You know, the hero thing?"

"Since 1997. In Fresno, California-" Doctor Light began, but was suddenly cut off.

"Oh, cool!" Stargirl exclaimed, the excitement in her tone authentic. "I used to live out in LA, but after Pat married my mother, we moved out to Hicksville, Nebraska."

Doctor Light raised her eyebrow. "Hicksville?"

"Well, Blue Valley, but believe me, it's the same thing," Stargirl replied, rolling her eyes.

The older woman smiled at this. "Well, anyway, I live out in Fresno, and have been doing this since '97. My late 20's," Doctor Light further explained. "Suffice it to say I got my powers from some accident in the laboratory. I first used them to protect a co-worker, who's ex-husband was threatening her life. Let's just say he wasn't threatening her afterward."

"Nice," Stargirl replied in a supporting manner. "You go, girl. And you just decided to keep fighting?"

"Well, it wasn't that simple," Doctor Light admitted with a shrug. "After I helped my friend, it was pretty much business as usual for a few months. I knew I could use my powers if I ever needed to, but I didn't go seeking out people that needed help or people that needed their butts kicked."

"What got you back into it, then?"

Doctor Light hesitated at this. "It's not really something I want to discuss, to be honest."

Stargirl shrugged. "Sure, no prob. Whatever it is, if you ever wanna tell me, just let me know. I'm def curious."

Lightly chuckling, Doctor Light nodded. "Of course, will do."

"Hey, I heard you hung out with Question before," Stargirl stated, her tone one of a mixture of awe and confusion. "That true?"

"I've tried on a handful of occasions, yes," Doctor Light confirmed. She shook her head. "He's just so hard to connect with, and he realizes that. So he doesn't even try. It's quite frustrating, really. Worse, plenty of members completely write him off. So it's not just one-sided on Question's part. I think Blue Devil tried to steal some of his files. It was just so unnecessary. Struck me as a bit of a jerk move."

Stargirl shrugged. "Blue Devil's a bit of a joker. Hear what he and B'wana Beast did? That production company?"

"No," Doctor Light replied, shaking her head. "Please, do tell."

"Well," Stargirl began, but was quickly cut off.

"Escuse me," a middle-aged man said, slurring his words, looking at Stargirl and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Do you wannto come and danse with me, pretty woman?"

Shocked, Stargirl glanced over at Doctor Light, who didn't need the look in the younger girl's eyes to act.

"Mr.," Doctor Light began, grabbing the man's hand off Stargirl's shoulder, "leave now."

"Gerroff me," the drunken man loudly exclaimed, struggling with Doctor Light. "Whattaya think yoourrr're doin', girlie," he asked his speech almost incomprehensible.

Aggravated, Doctor Light dragged him off to the side of the room, acutely aware of the eyes following her, and the ruckus as a whole. "You're heavily intoxicated. I'll have someone call you a taxi to take you home. What's your address?"

"I wanna danse wit that hot woman," he slurred in replied, pointing excitedly at Stargirl, who appeared infinitely embarrassed. "An 'm ash sober ash I alwaysss am, yous 'tupid bitch."

With a swift punch to the jugular, the man was on the floor, grasping at his throat, wailing. A few security guard then quickly came up, guns drawn.

"We're deeply sorry about this, ma'am," one of them stated, grabbing the drunk man by his shoulder, the other guard helping him up. "We'll get him back home, unless either of you," he began, looking both at Stargirl and Doctor Light, who had just embraced the younger girl, "want to press charges."

"I-" Stargirl began, but backed down, ferociously blushing. "No, it's fine. Just take the jerk home."

The two security guards marched the man off. Seconds later, Angela Chen came up to the pair, eying Stargirl with sympathetic eyes.

"That asshole didn't hurt you, did he," Chen asked, the concern in her voice very real.

Stargirl shook her head, though continued to hold onto Doctor Light. "No, the creep just had his hand on my shoulder and scared me."

"That 'creep' in question is Kay Gore, a city council member," Chen replied, glancing at the departing man, being walked out of the Civic Center, with a distasteful look. "I didn't vote for him, if it makes you feel any better."

"Well, make sure no one else votes for that creep," Stargirl bitterly stated, holding her arms to her body.

"That's something I can promise to work on," Chen replied with a wink.

"Speaking of your profession," Doctor Light began skeptically, looking over Chen's shoulder, "where's Captain Marvel?"

"Oh, totally strange," Chen said, providing her with a confused look. "After the clock struck seven, he said he really had to go. Something about his family, so he flew off. I got what I needed, so I let him go. That's what I was coming over here you tell you two, actually."

"Dare I ask what you got from him," Doctor Light inquired with a cringe.

Chen gave her a sly smile, the same smile she gave Captain Marvel earlier.

"Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Some juicy tidbits, no doubt," Chen confirmed, her grin widening, "so I'm a pretty happy camper tonight."

Doctor Light shook her head, a small smile still present. "Well, I'm glad you had your fun. Now-"

Another voice, not Stargirl's, not Doctor Light's, and not Chen's rang out.

"Well, someone get that gun away from him!"

* * *

_Supes wasn't wrong_, STRIPE thought to himself, as none other than Lex Luthor entered the room to a rather enthusiastic fanfare. _How these people can still trust or respect this man, I don't understand. Then again, _he sympathetically reconsidered, _I'm not from here, so maybe I'm not supposed to get it._

Surprisingly, Luthor caught STRIPE's gaze, and send him a subtle nod. Confused more than anything, STRIPE stood there, still, as Luthor excused himself from the surrounding group and made his way toward the hero.

"I hope I am finding you well," Luthor stated, his tone nothing but polite. "STRIPE, is it?"

"Yes, sir," STRIPE replied, and mentally kicked himself. _This is Superman's worst enemy, and I just called him 'sir'? The hell is wrong with me?_

To his (limited) credit, Luthor shook his head. "Please, there's no need to call me 'sir.' I simply came over here to thank you, and by extension, the whole of the League, for being here. After what Bizarro and Superman did to those buildings, I find it a relief that you seek to make better what was damaged."

"I don't know if Superman is to blame for what happened, Luthor," STRIPE stated, his voice considerably more firm then he actually felt. "Bizarro attacked, or was made to attack, him. From what I saw from the Watchtower, the first building went down almost before Superman knew what was happening."

"Of course, of course," Luthor replied with a wave of his right hand. "I didn't mean to imply that he was partly to blame. My mistake."

"I do apologize for being blunt, Mr. Luthor," STRIPE said, "but what exactly do you want from me?"

Luthor sighed and looked away briefly. "In short," he began, his gaze falling back on the hero, "I wanted to apologize. To come clean, in a way. I swore off violence, and I swore off my ill-will toward the League last year, as you well know. I was pardoned, and went back to running LexCorp. But I do believe that there remains in your ranks members who haven't yet come to trust me. Make no mistake, STRIPE," he added, seeing as STRIPE was about to interrupt, "I don't mean to suggest that all my past actions be forgot. I've done terrible things, and while I understand some may think me not a particularly empathetic individual, I do have to live with the burdens of the crimes I've committed, and allowed to be committed. As best I can though," he further urged, "as best I know how, I am attempting to atone for those crimes. I don't know you, STRIPE, nor do I know many of the new additions to the League, but I just wanted you to know that. For what it's worth."

Taking that all in, STRIPE nodded. "I cannot speak for the rest of the League, Mr. Luthor, but personally, I am a believer in giving people second chances. Just know that if you squander this second chance, the League, and perhaps more importantly, the justice system, will not take it lightly. To be overly forward, we are keeping an eye on you."

At this, Luthor shrugged. "I'd not expect anything less, nor do I believe that I deserve anything less than the highest amount of scrutiny one can give."

"Any idea what the rest of your life will look like, now that you're on the straight and narrow," STRIPE inquired.

"I've been considering dabbling in politics. State House, State Senate, that type of thing," Luthor replied. "I think whatever path I choose to take, it'll be on the state level. I think I could do so much more there as opposed to the House or Senate. Between you and I," Luthor added, a sly smile on his face, like the smile one friend would give to another while telling a joke, "I've not given much thought to political positions or parties. I just know I feel like being a statesman would be beneficial."

STRIPE, at this, gave a half-hearted chuckle.

"Well, I can't say that even if I lived in Delaware, I'd vote for you, but I really do appreciate that you're trying."

"I thank you for you kind words, STRIPE." Luthor held out his hand, and STRIPE hesitated only for a second.

After shaking it, he nodded at the bald man. "I hope the rest of this evening goes well for you, Luthor."

"And you," he replied, bowing ever so slightly before walking to another group of people.

It was minutes later when the scream, both frightened and angry, rang out.

"Well, someone get that gun away from him!"

* * *

"Indiana's pretty awful overall," Ray stated, with a slight shrug, "but Indie's mostly decent. Must beat the hell out of the middle of nowhere, Iowa."

At this, Todd chortled.

"Yeah, let me tell you, living out there was really an experience. My sister ran away so many times. Can't say I ever blamed her. Half of those times, I had to get her to come back home. It was such a hassle."

"I'm having a fun time picturing you as one of those tough farmer men, bailing hay and riding trackers around," Ray cut in with a wide grin.

With a smile himself, it was Todd's turn to shrug. "I can't help that my father's a farmer. Drove my sister crazy. I wasn't thrilled either. Small-town life and I don't really work out."

"Let me get this straight: You're anti-social, but at the same time, you'd prefer living in a populated city. That about right?"

"Small-town folk," Todd replied, his smile dissipating slightly, "always poke their noises into others' private affairs. In the city, you can be whoever you are. You don't need to hide anything. People naturally just leave everyone else alone. I'd love that."

Nodding, Ray nodded, drinking more of his wine. "Yeah, I feel you. Hey," he added, "you want to go out there and get some food? I saw some great looking steaks on the way here."

"I could join you in getting food," Todd nodded, "but I'd have to pass on the steak. I'm pescetarian." Upon seeing Ray's blank look, he expanded. "Basically, the only meat I eat is fish. Any other meats, beef, pork, what have you, I avoid."

"Man, that must make Easter and Thanksgiving really suck," Ray replied with a grin. "Hey, whatever floats your boat, right?"

"Yeah, for sure," Todd replied, appearing to have mentally kicked himself afterward as he visibly grimaced.

And so, another silence fell upon the two, and Ray was surprised, but not as surprised as one might expect, to find that Todd's face was again giving off the impression he was deeply embarrassed. _I so don't want to ask this, but I have to be sure_, Ray thought, and so opened his mouth.

"Listen, Todd, are-"

"Well, someone get that gun away from him!"

Both Todd and Ray swiftly placed down their glasses, and Todd pulled his mask back on. Without sharing any words, the pair ran in unison to the sound of the shout.

* * *

It was his first day on the job. When Lex Luthor shook his hand, welcomed him to LexCorp, promised him both a bright future and a high standard of living, Edward Lytener could barely grasp the grand possibilities that life held. His fiancee shared the joy with him that night - they popped open a bottle of champagne and celebrated the night away.

This was the memory that Edward couldn't shake from his head when entering the Metropolis Civic Center, the plan he and Livewire concocted having officially began. His costume hidden under the long trench coat he wore, Edward shivered slightly at the prospects of where this night was likely to lead to. Where he would be at the end of the night, only fate could determine.

And recently, Edward Lytener was not one to combat fate's decisions.

With a sigh, he glanced around the room. No Superman. At least not out in the open. But this would bring him out. Livewire and Edward were sure of it.

* * *

STRIPE didn't understand what he was seeing. One second, nothing. The next, a young child was holding a gun to his head. But he wasn't delusional, apparently. Gasps of shock arose from the crowds of people, and the boy, surely no older than ten, silently walked onto the stage. The band ceased playing. And the whole of the room was quiet.

"Well, someone get that gun away from him," a man shouted out.

Not entirely knowing what to do, STRIPE slowly began moving toward the boy, holding his hands out in front of him.

"What's your name, kid," he asked, his nervousness not at all masked by his helmet. "Please, put the gun down."

In silence, the kid turned to the crowd, and in a split second, pulled the trigger. Half of the crowd screamed, the other half shouted out. Two older women fainted, which was something STRIPE had not seen before, he randomly thought.

But the kid, the kid who shot himself, was gone. No body. Nothing.

_What the__-?_

"Hey kids, ladies, gents," came the call of a woman, and the crowd turned toward the doors, now blocked. Blocked by no other than Livewire, if the Justice League files STRIPE had glanced through months ago were accurate.

"I just want one thing. Goody-two boots. Blue Boy. Superman. Lickety-split. Now. He reveals himself, you're all free to go. Come on, do I have to get rough," she asked, and sparks flew from her hands to nearby reporters.

"Superman's not here," STRIPE stated, stepping forward.

"What," she replied, stoic, clearly not expecting that.

"Superman's not here," Stargirl repeated her stepfather's words, stepping up next to him, followed by Doctor Light.

"Damn it," Livewire muttered. Looking past the heroes, past the crowd, she shouted out, "What do we do?"

Confused, STRIPE looked behind him, but suddenly his vision was utterly blinded, so much so he almost, in a brief frenzied second, he considered removing his helmet.

Instead, he held out his hands, and from the fingertips, out flew mini-missiles, designed to go after hostile individuals. They didn't connect, though, as he heard Courtney to his left side utter a word most unlike her.

"It's Luminus," Doctor Light said as she threw up her arms and made a shield of hard light. "And a lot of people are leaving out of side doors, so we have a spacious battlefield, STRIPE. Unleash all that you can when possible."

"Hey, you guys take the electric chick," Ray called out promptly, flying over them, carrying Obsidian with both hands. "We'll take down this Light-Master guy."

His vision now clearing up, STRIPE saw Courtney lunge toward Livewire.

"Kid, I really don't want to do this," Livewire called out, her voice wavering, her hands crackling dangerously. "Just get Superman here."

"Yeah, right," Stargirl replied, in a tone that STRIPE knew went along with her rolling her eyes, and aimed her staff at the blue-skinned femme fatale.

She didn't have a chance.

Angrily, Livewire lashed out, throwing a ball of pure electricity straight at Stargirl, and though Doctor Light tried to counter the energy with light energy from herself, she was unable to. Shivers rampantly ran down Pat's spine as he heard Courtney's pained scream, and he himself shouted out as she crumpled to the group, either unconscious or dead.

_She can't be dead. She can't be_, he considered frantically.

Throwing out energy blasts from his gloves in the general direction of Livewire, not much caring at the moment for accuracy, he shouted at Doctor Light, "Provide me cover, Light!"

That, she was able to do, as she threw up another hard light shield to block out Livewire's attacks. But she already countered that by traveling via outlets to pop up behind STRIPE and overloaded his suit with another huge burst of electricity. STRIPE ceased moving and Pat Dugan was knocked unconscious as his suit fell forward, almost striking down Doctor Light.

"Damn," she cried out. _Hope the others are having better luck with Luminus, because we're getting butchered here._

Turning to Livewire, Doctor Light grimaced. "Bring it, asshole."

With a weak smirk, almost unsure, she replied, "No problem."

* * *

"Where'd he go," Obsidian cried out to Ray, after following Luminus into the same hallway which led to the room where they chatted just minutes ago.

"I don't know," Ray replied, looking around. "He can't turn invisible, can he?"

"Get Superman down here," a shout came out from the seemingly empty hallway.

"Okay," Obsidian muttered to Ray in an undertone, "he _can _turn invisible."

"Superman's not coming down here, jerk," Ray shot back. "Deal with it. Why would he come down to fight two C-rate baddies?"

"You'll regret those words," the furious voice called out, and before either of them knew what happened, five figures popped up, all of them Luminus.

"Oh great," Obsidian exclaimed to Ray, unimpressed. "He can also make holographic copies of himself. How scary."

"Superman thought they were," the voice rang out from all of the figures, and they raised their guns, lasers firing out.

As Obsidian, at the point, began his merging into his own shadow, the lasers went through his intangible form, but one hit Ray on his left arm, and he grunted.

"You know, Luminus," Ray yelled, rubbing his left arm gingerly, "I can transfer light into energy. So I think you're going against the wrong person. I'm a more powerful version of you. Must totally blow," he finished taunting.

The room suddenly was shrouded in darkness, aside from immediately around Ray, who was now emitting his own glow.

"You know, it's sorta funny that Luminus attacks a charity with two light-based heroes and one shadow-based," Obsidian said, the levity in his voice clear. It was obvious he didn't consider this individual a real threat. "It's almost embarrassing, really."

"ENOUGH!"

The shadows surrounding the room were gone, as were Luminus' illusive copies. Luminus stood there, enraged, sweat pouring from his face. Absolute hatred. That's how Obsidian would later describe it when reporting to Superman.

"If we can't kill Superman, then we'll make do with his lackeys," Luminus spat. And a second later, where stood one man now stood the same one man, only flanked by over ten illusion versions, their guns all aimed at the two heroes.

Ray smiled, and nudged Obsidian in the side.

"On my cue," he whispered with a wink. To Luminus, he shouted, "Hey, Luminus, aren't you forgetting something?"

Shaking his head in pure annoyance, he spat back, "What?"

Pointing over his shoulder, Ray shouted out, "What the hell is that!"

Falling for it, Luminus looked over his shoulder. Obsidian and Ray retreated as quickly as they could. A yell of fury milliseconds later let them know that their light-based foe had not given up his quarry.

"We've got this guy down, right," Obsidian called out to Ray, who was flying above him.

"No doubt, he's probably almost run out of power," Ray replied. "We're close to finishing him off, I know it."

"Thought so, just making sure," Obsidian muttered, more to himself than anyone else. _God, I hope so, anyway_.

* * *

_Thank God_ was the first thought Doctor Light had upon seeing Obsidian and Ray enter the grand hall again.

"Guys, we're all that's left. We've got to end this now," she screamed, nursing an injured arm and leg.

A barrage of lasers cut down Obsidian's intended response, along with Obsidian himself, who buckled to the ground, not even able to cry out in point. He blacked out instantly, the irony which was not lost on Ray.

"Somebody call your momma," Ray roared at Luminus, "because she's going to have a funeral to attend."

"Nice try, pretty boy," Livewire stated, upon popping out from a nearby outlet, and she sent waves of electricity toward both Doctor Light and Ray. Doctor Light was able to mostly deflect the waves aimed at her, but Ray wasn't as lucky.

"DAMN IT," Ray shouted, collapsed on the ground, and struggling to stand up unsuccessfully.

Doctor Light spun around to face Luminus, but he had already gotten past her and Ray.

"It's not working," Luminus yelled at Livewire. "Superman's not coming. Plan B. I'm sorry, but do it. I'm spent. I'm done."

"NO," Livewire roared back. "Don't give up. Once we take these dolts down, Superman will-"

"JUST DO IT," he shouted again at his partner, who, utterly amazing Doctor Light, had tears in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie. I never meant for this to happen," Livewire called back.

His head down, his hands down, the whole of his defenses down, Luminus replied, "I know."

With a scream that would forever be etched in the mind of Doctor Light, Livewire send a gigantic surge of electricity straight at Luminus, who did exactly nothing to counteract it. Instead, he stood still, his eyes flickering, as if looking for any last hope, as the electricity that hit him put him down instantly after his body stiffened. And he went down permanently.

"What did you do," Doctor Light shot at Livewire, more out of shock than anything. "You killed him!"

Livewire was many things, Doctor Light knew. She read the files multiple times to prepare herself for situations like this. But a killer she was not. And if she could stoop to that level, Doctor Light suddenly felt quite afraid for her life. The burning husk of Luminus' corpse certainly didn't instill in her any confidence.

"Just shut up!"

A final surge of electricity was lobbied at the ceiling, and following that, the sprinklers began spouting out water. Dropping to her knees, Livewire hesitantly glanced over at Luminus' body. Before the water shorted out her powers, Doctor Light could swear that she was already dead inside by the look in her eyes.

A mere ten seconds later, the whole thing was over.

No one who wasn't involved in the conflict was left in the building. The only conscious ones were Doctor Light and Ray, who was still struggling to find the use of his legs. Leaning on a nearby wall, he glanced over at Doctor Light, breathing heavily, and asked, "What just happened?"

In reply, Doctor Light could only shake her head. What had transpired, she didn't know.

"J'onn," she spoke softly into her earpiece, "are you there?"

"They're shorted out," Ray replied, throwing his own to the ground.

"Damn it, how will we-"

A stony voice called out to them, the tone far weaker than one would expect from such a muscular frame.

"Guys, what happened here?"

"Get J'onn to send us help, Captain Marvel," Doctor Light shot back.

Shaking himself out of the daze at the sight before his eyes, Captain Marvel did just that. As the call was being made, Doctor Light felt herself sink down to her knees. Her mind and powers were overextended. Way overextended.

And before the first responders arrived, before Superman or Wonder Woman made it to the Metropolis Civic Center, Doctor Light followed Obsidian, STRIPE, and Stargirl into unconsciousness.


	14. Aftermath I

**Welcome back, my dear readers.**

**This chapter takes place immediately after my last chapter. Should any questions or concerns come to mind, please let me know via review or personal message.**

**The next chapter should come out April 8th, if all goes well.**

**I do not own any of the characters.**

* * *

Silently, Superman stood on the Watchtower deck, peering down at the planet he for so long has called home. Generally, the sight calmed his oft-heavy heart. But one of his enemies went further than Superman ever dared imagine; Livewire had killed Luminus. And so the sight of Earth did little to make his mood a serene one.

"Clark," a light voice spoke, and Superman turned toward Wonder Woman, who was lightly walking up behind him, "don't blame yourself for what happened."

"We don't really know what happened," Superman replied. "We just know that everyone down there was injured. Ray only regained the use of his legs 30 minutes ago. Stargirl is still unconscious. Obsidian's not his usual self, as far as I can tell. Captain Marvel asked to be put on the inactive roster. It was an utter mess."

"They were taken off-guard, Clark," Wonder Woman gently said. "Before they knew what was happening, Luminus had tricked the crowd into thinking that a boy killed himself and Livewire had blocked off the main entrance. In that situation, of course panic would ensue. I think given the circumstances, along with the fact that both Luminus and Livewire were doing all they could to kill them, it turned out positive."

Superman just shook his head. "I never knew Livewire to actually be murderous. Never. Most of the time, she was just having fun in her own twisted way. But murder? Never."

"Something changed," Batman spoke, walking to the pair of them. "We don't know what, but something changed. I spoke to the precinct captain down in Metropolis, where Livewire is currently in custody. Worth noting," Batman further explained, "despite them not knowing until ten minutes had passed that they should keep electronic devices away, she has made no attempts to escape. You want to talk to her? The captain will allow that."

Superman nodded, and turned back to Earth. "It was a charity event, damn it," he growled. "Is nothing sacred?"

Neither Batman nor Wonder Woman spoke. The three shared agreement on this topic.

Nothing was sacred.

* * *

Pat was silent, though when Doctor Light walked into Stargirl's infirmary room, she knew for sure that he was awake, as he was clasping Courtney's left hand in his.

At first, Pat made no indication that he heard the door slide open, and so when Doctor Light approached him, she was slightly surprised when, in a raw voice, he asked, "How can I help you, Light?"

"Pat, she'll be okay, you know," Doctor Light stated, placing a hand on his shoulder. "J'onn said there'd be no permanent damage. Courtney will be okay."

Stubbornly, Pat shook his head at Doctor Light's words. "I didn't even want her to be a hero," he admitted, running his right hand haphazardly through his red hair. "I sure as hell never wanted her to get hurt."

"Well, sometimes life just pulls us to be heroes," she vaguely replied with a shrug, pulling up a chair next to Pat. "Sometimes we don't get a choice. Sometimes it just, well, happens that way."

"I was a hero, or, I guess, tried to be a hero," Pat explained with a long-winded sigh, "when I was a kid. '79, '80, I paraded around in tights and called myself Stripesy. The Reagan revolution and all that sorta prompted me. God, I was a stupid kid." Pat chuckled at this and shook his head. "I was just a nobody running around Boulder in patriotic garb, beating up muggers and carjackers. God, I didn't know what I was doing. But it was liberating. I thought I was helping shore up some patriotism, to fight off the Commies."

Doctor Light said nothing at this, but looked at him with what he took as a sympathetic tone.

"Like I said," Pat went on, after a prolonged pause, "I was an idiot. Felt that way too, after a few years of Reagan. After the Kemp-Roth tax cut of '81, I took off my costume and never wore it again. For three years, the people of Boulder had what they though was a hero looking out for them, even though I was just a kid. But bam, like that, I disappeared off the scene. And they never saw me again."

"So you became a hero for the wrong reasons," Doctor Light replied, nodding her head. "But you're a hero now. What are your reasons at this moment?"

"To protect Courtney," Pat replied simply. "Oh, sure, I agree with what the League is trying to do. I believe in justice, and I believe in pitching in and doing my fair share. But if you're asking me the number one reason I'm here, it's because of Courtney. God, I sometimes wish she never found my costume..."

Pat trailed off, and Doctor Light looked curiously at him, waiting for an explanation. Whether Pat didn't notice or didn't care, she didn't know, but after almost a minute of silence, she asked for clarification. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, well," Pat replied, seeming surprised by the question, "a few years after her mother died, she was going through the garage. God knows what she was looking for," he offered with shrug. "But she found my old threads. I kept them, not because I thought what I did back then was smart, but I did feel a certain pride in knowing that I helped people, in whatever limited way I could. So I kept the uniform, kept a few newspaper clippings, and that was that. In my more nostalgic moments, I'd look back on those carefree days," Pat finished with a smile. "I sometimes wonder," he added, "what Courtney's mother would have thought about what I did. I never did tell her. I was going to, but, well, that type of thing didn't really come up."

Doctor Light politely smiled at this. "So she found your suit and what, went out to fight crime?"

"I think a lot of it was acting out," Pat admitted, turning his gaze back upon his step-daughter. "She was 16, and she was angry. And she took karate. It was a pretty dangerous mix," he said with a grin. "The first few weeks, I didn't know anything was wrong. God knows that there were other things on my mind, and to be completely honest, I wasn't winning any father of the year awards. When I saw the bruises, the first thing I thought was boys. And I got riled up. But she came clean, and told me. She was fighting crime, wearing something she designed off my old suit. And when she told me, I saw in her eyes that she wanted by back in the field. By her side."

"I remember that night so clearly," Pat continued, shaking his head. "I was such a shitty father, but she still wanted me to help her out. God, I never understood why she wanted that. Not then, anyways."

"I think she probably just wanted to share a hobby with her father," Doctor Light replied, putting her hand on Pat's. "You know, teen kids always want their parents to be interested in what they do. And you being a hero in the past? I can scarcely imagine the magic that she saw in a team-up between her and you."

At this, Pat chuckled. "I suppose you're right. Anyhow, I was long past the time where I'd run around in tights, but I'm an engineer and mechanic, so what do I do? Make a few suits."

"And hence, the legend of Stargirl and STRIPE begins," Doctor Light said with a smile.

"We took northeastern Nebraska by storm," Pat replied, nodding. "There were never many heroes out that way, so it definitely turned some peoples' heads."

"See, to me," Doctor Light began, "it sounds like almost destiny. You're a hero for a few years back in the late '70s, and your step-daughter, after finding your uniform, becomes a hero too? That means something."

"You really think so," Pat asked, his tone one of wonderment. "Like it was meant to be?"

"Well, I'll just say that I don't really believe in coincidences," Doctor Light replied. "And I do truly believe, with all my heart, that some people are called upon to be heroes, by the greater force of the universe."

"You ever have doubts about your path, Kimiyo?"

"Only every day," she replied with a smile. "But I do believe I'm doing what I'm supposed to be. And that I'm making a positive difference doing it."

It was Pat's turn to sit there, waiting for the story to continue, while Doctor Light appeared in deep thought.

"You know, Courtney and I were talking about this earlier tonight," she stated, nodding at Pat's surprised look. "I told her about the first time I took action, helped someone out, but not why I became a hero permanently. I didn't think that a young girl should hear that."

"Well, I think Courtney's growing up quickly," Pat replied, "but I thank you for your caution. That bad, huh?"

Doctor Light's lips pressed together tightly, she made a sound of disgust. "Serial rapist. After what he did to those women, I almost wish he would have killed them," she said, and convulsively shuddered. "Yeah, it was bad."

Grimly, Pat nodded. "And you were able to track this guy down?"

"Took some time," Doctor Light replied, her face showing some anger. "By the time I actively began looking for this guy, he already attacked four women. And by the time I caught up to him, he'd gotten ten. And those were only the ones that came forward."

"If I were in your position, I might have killed the bastard if I caught up to him. And I'm a generally peaceful guy."

"I really thought about it," Doctor Light confirmed. "When I have him in my sights, right in front of me, God, I was tempted. But I'm a lapsed Buddhist, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"That sounds extraordinarily tough."

"Yes, it was. And after I got him sent away to prison, one of his victims thanked me. It was hard, listening to her story, but I did. What she went through - well, it's better left unsaid. But I realize that had I been out on the streets before this guy started, I could have maybe prevented some of these attacks. So since then, I've been doing all I could to make Fresno a safer place."

"Well, cheers to you for that," Pat replied, his tone supportive. "So, when you're not a hero, what do you do with your life? Or is this an all-day, every day thing?"

"I'm a scientist," Doctor Light stated. "That 'Doctor' in my name? Well, I have a PhD, so it's sort of accurate."

Pat gave her a look. "So, you're the type of person who refers to themselves as a 'doctor' when you have a PhD? Tsk tsk."

Doctor Light laughed. "Not so much. Just a tidbit, really. When people find out I'm a scientist, they're generally surprised."

"The woman thing?"

She shrugged. "I think it's more that when people see me, they don't see a scientist. It's not the gender, it's just they don't see it in me. I do need to try and get something to eat, though," she stated, standing up, her hand on his shoulder. "Hang tight, Pat. She'll be fine. Just keep that thought in mind."

Pat gave her a bracing smile. "Thanks for stopping by, friend."

"Of course," she replied, and with that, she left Pat alone with Courtney.

* * *

"Back to the Future, the Karate Kid, or Indiana Jones?"

Speedy raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me?" The archer understood the words that Atom-Smasher said, but as to the context, he was utterly clueless. Walking into the commissary, those were not the first words one would expect. Atom-Smasher, Sand, Cynthia, and Hourman sat around a table, their late dinners long-done with.

Sand shook his head. "Al, myself, and Rick have a bet. Best trilogy from the 1980's. We're asking as many members as we can. I've got my money on Indiana Jones."

Atom-Smasher laughed jovially, and Sand gave him a look, though what type of look, Speedy couldn't determine through Sand's gas mask. He ran his hand through his blond hair and made a noise of derision. "Could you stop laughing every time I say that?"

Cynthia cupped her mouth and giggled. "They've been bickering about this since 9:30."

"I think it's fair to say," Hourman began, ignoring Atom-Smasher's flipping off of Sand, "that these two are clearly out of their minds. Back to the Future is clearly the most popular trilogy. The actors, the story, the comedy, it's all solid."

If Speedy could have seen Sand's face, he'd expect him to be rolling his eyes. "Yeah, like Harrison Ford's a light-weight."

"Or Pat Morita," Atom-Smasher interjected, and Sand sent him another look.

"Guys, are you insane," Speedy asked, though he couldn't help but chuckle. "First off, which of you idiots got behind the Karate Kid? You, Al?"

"Yeah," Al replied defensively, "but I don't see why-"

"There's four Karate Kid movies, dude. It's not a trilogy."

"Oh," Hourman shouted, causing some personnel walking by to glance over at them, "he's got you there. I completely forgot about the fourth movie."

"The Hillary Swank television movie," Al replied, a disgusted look on his face. After Speedy and Rick nodded, he shook his head. "THAT DOESN'T COUNT!"

"Why the hell wouldn't it count," Sand incredulously asked. "Just because Macchio's not in it? Screw you."

"Hey, you know what," Rick spoke up, before Al could retort, "let's let Atom-Smasher keep Karate Kid. He'll still lose to both of us."

Sand titled his head, then nodded. "Okay, I'm good with that."

"How much money do you guys have on this bet," Speedy inquired, scrunching his face up in amusement.

"Yeah, listen to this," Cynthia said, rolling her eyes, "you'll love it."

"I have $80 on Indiana Jones coming out on top," Sand explained. "Rick has $75 on Back to the Future, and Al has $45 on the Karate Kid 'cause he's Jewish."

The drink that Cynthia was drinking spurted out of her mouth, and she broke out laughing.

"You anti-Semantic prick," Al replied, though with a grin.

"What's the tally, then," Speedy inquired, raising his eyebrows.

Cynthia snorted in laughter again, and Hourman gave her a look of annoyance.

"Well, if you count us, it's 1-1-1," Hourman said. "Cynthia here hasn't seen the Karate Kid movies, so we can't count her vote."

"You've seen all these trilogies, right," Sand asked. "You want to help us out?"

"As much as I love seeing you three bicker like kids," Speedy began, "yeah, I have. I'm going with Indiana Jones."

Sand grunted in joy at this, and Cynthia took down his vote in a small notebook she had in her hands.

"You know what," Speedy began, a new gleam in his eyes, "you want to do this properly? Let's do it. Cynthia, I, and another member can go around, ask League members which they prefer, and get some real results. We can probably get like, 20 results by the end of the night if we work quickly."

"Why couldn't we help collect vote," Atom-Smasher replied, confused.

"Because he doesn't trust any of us not to cheat," Sand replied, nodding in agreement, "as it's our money on the line."

A general murmur of agreement came upon the three of them, and they gave the affirmative.

"We'll be back in 30, guys," Speedy stated. "Don't go anywhere."

"Hey, I have $120 to collect," Sand remarked, the smile in his voice obvious. "I wouldn't dream of going anywhere."

As Speedy and Cynthia walked out of the commissary, just as the younger archer expected, an argument had broken out between the three. Speedy grinned.

* * *

Obsidian sat in his room alone, staring out of his window.

He sighed deeply.

Tonight simply had not gone as planned. It wasn't just the fact that the charity was attacked, but more the fact that despite being League members, they weren't able to effectively take them out. They only won, according to a like-wise bothered Ray, when Livewire turned on Luminus. And that bothered Obsidian too, the more he thought about it.

While he and Ray were throwing jokes back and forth to each other, Luminus was living the last 30 minutes of his life, putting all he had into trying to take them down. He was deadly serious. And Ray and himself just laughed him off.

This didn't bode well with Obsidian. Who knew what that man was going through. Instead of fighting each other, they could have prevented this whole thing and gotten him the necessary help years ago. But he was now dead, and Obsidian, despite knowing that technically he was mistaken, couldn't help but blame himself partially for his death.

It just, to Obsidian, felt _wrong._

A knock on his door jolted him from his stupor. And he wasn't surprised when, standing on the other side, was Ray.

"Mind if I come in, man?"

Obsidian shrugged, and moved away from the door. "Suit yourself."

"So, I was trying to eat a late dinner at the commissary," Ray began, sitting in a chair in front of Obsidian's desk, "and Atom-Smasher, Cynthia, Hourman, you know, that bunch, were arguing over movies or something like that. I don't know, but I just couldn't get into it. They even tried inviting me over, but I just sorta shrugged them off."

"Tonight's felt different to me too," Obsidian admitted, sitting on his bed. "I've just been thinking about Luminus, how tonight was the last night of his life, and wondering what he was trying to accomplish."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I think that's something that Superman is really going to try and find out," Ray replied. "I heard he wasn't happy with what happened."

"He doesn't blame us," Obsidian inquired, not having heard this information.

"No, no," Ray quickly replied, "it's more how Livewire killed Luminus. Apparently, that's something that no one would have expected Livewire to do, so no one knows what to make of it."

It was this that both of them pondered, the silence disturbed only my the sound of Obsidian removing his mask to more properly scratch his ear. The two shared a quick glance before Obsidian looked away, his cheeks again turning red.

"Todd, mind if I ask you something," Ray inquired. "It's, well, personal, truth be told."

Obsidian shook his head, and sighed. "I think I know what you're going to ask, and yes, I am, though I'm not a fan of labels. And I'd prefer it not get around."

"No, it's cool, don't worry," Ray swiftly replied. "I just thought, you know, I've seen you and Vibe hanging out a lot, and-"

"We, uh, had a falling out, actually because of this very thing," Obsidian replied, exhaling. "I misread him. My fault. At first, I thought he was just playing hard-to-get, and then I thought he just didn't know yet, but no, as it turns out, he's very straight. And he wasn't happy when I, well," he flustered for a bit. "It doesn't matter."

"Listen," Ray gingerly said, "I'm not, you know-"

Obsidian laughed. "Listen, Ray, it's fine. I didn't know, so I was sorta testing the waters earlier tonight. I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or anything."

"Well, I'm glad that's cleared up," Ray cheerfully replied. "I wish you luck in finding someone, but I don't get the sense that even among the League, many of us would understand."

"To be honest," Obsidian began, running his hand through his hair, "I'm just glad you're not the judgmental type."

"I've never met anyone who was openly, well, gay," Ray finished rather lamely. "But I don't have anything against you."

"Well, that's something, anyways."

A comfortable silence came upon the two of them. After a while, Ray nodded to the door. "Want to grab a bite to eat?"

"For sure, man," Obsidian agreeably said. "Let's jet."

* * *

Blue Devil entered the commissary, and upon seeing a group of League members still up, approached them.

"How now," Blue Devil asked, doing his best Shining Knight impression.

Hourman yawned, not impressed. "Well, there's always next time. Take a seat, Danny."

"I have to admit," Blue Devil stated, pulling out a seat and taking it, "I'm surprised to see that you guys are still up.

"It's a long story," Sand admitted. "Basically, we're waiting for results for a bet."

"Oh, the movie thing," Blue Devil replied. "Cynthia asked me earlier."

Atom-Smasher piqued up. "Which did you pick?"

"To quote Leviticus," Blue Devil remarked, "that's for me to know and you to find out."

"I'm almost positive that's not in Leviticus," Hourman replied with a grin. "Anyways, that's why we're up. What's up with you?"

"Wanted to talk about what happened in Metropolis. Spread gossip. Talk about members behind their backs. That kind of stuff," Blue Devil said with a shrug. "Superman's so pissed about it."

Blank stares followed this proclamation, and Blue Devil sighed. "Aw, man, you're telling me that none of the three of you heard about this yet?"

"What happened in Metropolis," Sand asked. "Bizarro again?"

"No, that charity thing. Remember? The one I was almost picked to go to, but I got out of it due to my pure charm," Blue Devil replied.

"Ah, if I remember," Atom-Smasher remarked, "you got out of it by saying you'd punch the first reporter who asked you if the horns were real or not."

"Didn't you get a week of monitor duty with Terrific for that," Hourman further inquired.

Blue Devil waved them off. "I think what's truly important is that earlier tonight, two of Superman's baddies attacked the charity. Some of the League got pretty hurt, too. Ray was down for a bit, but I think he's fine now. STRIPE got knocked around. Stargirl almost died, from what I heard from Nem-"

"Wait," Atom-Smasher quickly cut in, "Courtney got hurt?"

Blue Devil eyed his fellow League member strangely. "Yeah, what's that to you? She a friend?"

Atom-Smasher nodded, and without any additional words, he stood up and left the table.

Hourman made sure he was gone before he replied. "Stargirl's like a little sister to him. He's sorta over-protective of her, really."

"Huh," Blue Devil replied, filing that away. "Well, anyways, it was a pretty wild night. I even heard Captain Marvel, our new boy, decided to take some time off."

"He went off the active roster," Sand replied, outraged. "I've been wanting to get some free time to myself for ages, but Green Lantern keeps declining my requests."

"Well, maybe-"

Blue Devil was cut off, though, when Commander Steel entered the commissary and marched up to the table in a huff. "Anyone here seen my American flag," he inquired, embarrassed. "I seem to have, well, misplaced it."

"Is that the one Hawk has hanging up over his bed," Sand asked, bored.

"No, no," Commander Steel replied, distracted. "That's his, mine's-"

"Dude, does it look like anyone here has your flag," Blue Devil asked. "Listen, if anyone sees it, we'll let you know, cool?"

Commander Steel sighed, but nodded his head just the same. "Thank you."

After he left, Blue Devil shrugged at the suspicious look Hourman was giving him.

"What," he asked Hourman defensively. "I had a bet with Creeper that I could get his flag before Creeper could get Hawk's."

"And pray tell," Hourman sweetly replied, a smile on his lips, "where'd you stash it?"

"Crimson Avenger's room. He's never up here, so I thought, what the heck?"

"You know," Sand said, "if you get kicked off the League, I don't think anyone would be surprised."

"I'm probably on the watch list," Blue Devil admitted. "Up there with Booster Gold, Aztek, and Question."

"Whoa, rewind a sec," Sand swiftly replied, "what did Aztek do?"

"He watches hockey," Blue Devil said with a shiver. "That's enough of a crime, believe me."

"Boy, are we lucky to have you," Hourman spoke under his breath.

* * *

When first Superman walked into the interrogation room, he was shocked to see that, behind Livewire's eyes, she looked nearly dead. He had no idea why, which was concernig, but tried to shake it off. Sitting down across from her, he was further thrown off track by the fact she hurled no insults at him. In fact, she said nothing - just blandly stared at him, as if in shock.

"Leslie," Superman began, his tone far more tender than he had expected to use, "are you okay?"

At this, she remained silent.

Undeterred, Superman pressed on. According to the officers, her system was clean, so why she was acting like this had nothing to do with narcotics, which Superman took only as a positive sign.

"Leslie, why did you kill Luminus tonight?"

Still, she simply stared at him. But her eyes were moving - she heard him fine.

"Leslie, you're facing a murder charge. That's not Stryker's. That's Belle Reve. I'd start talking."

She didn't. And no matter how hard he pressed, how hard he urged her to come clean, after ten minutes, he had gotten nowhere. Staring at the face of the woman he'd known for almost ten years, Superman shook his head.

"Leslie, if you ever want to talk, please tell the guards to contact me. I'm here for you," he gently stated. "Remember that. Please."

* * *

As Superman flew back up to the Watchtower, his interaction with Leslie stuck in his mind.

She wasn't a murderer, not naturally. Why she did what she did, he had no idea. Maybe the courts would find out, maybe the secret would go with her to her grave.

It was bittersweet, almost - while Livewire was a pain in the neck, she was never overly dangerous. And Superman thought that she herself knew that. But that changed. And so much had changed.

"J'onn," he spoke to his earpiece, "I'm coming back in now."

"Of course, friend," J'onn replied. "Did you have any luck with Livewire?"

"I didn't," Superman said, still aggravated. "I don't know what happened down there, but-"

The statement went unfinished.

Superman had disappeared.


End file.
